


BUM BUM BUM IT'S HALLOWEEN

by tranquilatlast



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Blood and Violence, Murder Mystery, Post-Canon, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 08:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 36,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16472501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tranquilatlast/pseuds/tranquilatlast
Summary: It's the summer before senior year, and Jeremy has been swept along with his friends to a vacation cabin far from Middleborough. The secluded coziness doesn't last when one member of the friend group is found dead during an intense, flooding storm.One by one, Jeremy's closest friends are meeting their untimely demise. He works alongside Michael and Christine in their efforts to find the killer before they become the next victims.





	1. STAGED

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ ALL TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS BELOW BEFORE PROCEEDING. ↓↓ 
> 
> This murder mystery fic includes:  
> \- Strangulation in the least sexy way possible  
> \- Body mutilation  
> \- Neck breaking  
> \- Cutting  
> \- Hanging  
> \- Heavy implication of underage sex before violence  
> \- Major head trauma  
> \- Drowning  
> \- Poisoning  
> \- Stabbing  
> \- Blood  
> \- Manipulation mayhaps  
> \- Lack of emotion and remorse in the murderer
> 
> If you are sensitive to these topics and may experience dizziness, nausea, panic attacks, or major anxiety while reading them, DO NOT READ THIS FIC. Your safety is far more important than a hit or kudos on Ao3. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.
> 
> If you are unfazed by the mention of these subjects, I hope you have fun reading! Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you read, look out for clues!!

“I personally feel like a cabin in the woods is way overboard,” Jeremy stated honestly. Jake just laughed softly and glanced over his shoulder to flash a beaming grin at Jeremy, amused. Jeremy was sat in the second row of seats of their rental van, which was super crowded by all his other friends. Michael was driving, Jake rode shotgun, and Jeremy was seat buddies with Rich and Christine. The rest of the girls sat in the back after designating it “the cool kid zone.”

“Dude, we all agreed on it a while ago. You said you liked the idea,” the jock pointed out, adjusting his seatbelt as he faced forward again. Michael snorted at the conversation, but otherwise remained focused on the unfamiliar road they were on. Rich and Christine were having an animated conversation about microwavable breakfast food, which made most of the noise in the vehicle. Chloe, Brooke, and Jenna were mostly on their phones behind them and stayed relatively silent except for the occasional huff of laughter at whatever they had on their screens.

“I said I liked the idea, but I didn’t think we were actually going to do it.” Camping out was never an issue for Jeremy, but this was totally beyond that. It was the summer after their junior year, and the group was on their way to some high-class cabin out in northeastern Pennsylvania. Rich was the one to insist they all go, and was immediately backed up by Brooke, who just seemed to enjoy agreeing with him. “You said there isn't even gonna be any phone service, right?”

“Yeah, but there's free Wifi and everything. It's not, like, shady or whatever. It's meant to be a vacation home, yeah, Rich?” Jake adjusted the rearview mirror to look at Rich, who was in the seat behind Michael's. Jeremy was between Rich and Christine, but ignored their breakfast sandwich talk the best he could. Rich looked up when he heard his name.

“Huh?” he said dumbly. Jake just laughed softly and Michael immediately reached up to adjust the mirror again. “Yeah, no, the thing said that there would be service in some parts of the place. Only one bar, though, which is enough to make a call and whatever. Sometimes the cell tower goes out, but that won’t matter. Plus, there’s this basement that's not even really a basement, it's mostly above ground. Honestly, though, the rest of it totally cancels those parts out! It's so new, it isn't even publicly listed yet. Connections, babe!”

“That's reassuring,” Michael quipped, nudging his glasses up. As if summoned by his voice, a few water droplets hit the windshield. Then a few more. Then it was drizzling over them enough that Michael decided to put the windshield wipers to their slowest setting. Jenna piped up from the seat behind Jeremy, the first thing she'd said in a good half hour.

“Pennsylvania gets some crazy storms during the summer. I packed hot cocoa mix if we need it.” Brooke, who sat behind Christine, made an “ooo” sound in response, not looking up from her phone. Jeremy eyed the light rain warily. Hopefully it wouldn't storm too hard for the week they were all living together. He loved his friends, but being cramped up in some rando's cabin for longer than planned wasn't a really pleasant thought. His hand moved to his stomach, then back to his lap. Jeremy tuned out and stared ahead out the windshield, ignoring the uncomfortable wrench in his gut and the killer headache he’d gotten from all the driving.

He didn't know when he'd fallen asleep, but Jeremy woke up to Christine gently patting the side of his face. Groggily, he lifted his head off her shoulder, looking around with the kind of confusion you only get after a really long, unexpected nap. Michael was cussing out his GPS, with Jake trying to correct their route with his own phone and his own wisdom. Rich had a full McDonald's bag in his lap, but just teasingly nibbled at a fry as Brooke protested quietly and reached to shake his shoulder. Chloe and Jenna were taking pictures of the window views with their phones having those obnoxious shutter sounds. It was kind of chaotic, and not at all pleasant to be bombarded with with after coming into consciousness. Jeremy felt his headache worsen.

“Wakey wakey, McGriddle eggs and bakey,” Christine chirped happily, a great juxtaposition to the rest of the car. Jeremy rubbed at his face, sitting up straight and looking around. Apparently, no one knew where they were. He tiredly sat through the noise of the car, slumping against his seat. It wasn't night yet, but it was pretty dark out. “We're close, I think. You were sleeping, but we found the town we're closest to and went past a drive-thru. You should've seen it, it was so cute! We didn't actually get McGriddles, though.”

He let Christine's happy chatter soothe him, and tapped his leg impatiently for the rest of the way. It took a short while, but they made it to the cabin. It looked pretty new, with big windows and clean walls and a balcony. It was built up on a foundation two meters tall, with tall steps leading up to it. To make it more private, it was built some ways into the woods, with a long gravel driveway. It was surrounded by tall trees, which looked grand in the deep sky. There weren't any lights on, but the headlights of their van lit up the outside well. Michael let out a very long exhale as he pulled in, quickly closing the GPS app on his phone. That probably meant he was glad to finally be here. Brooke politely clapped and Chloe hummed in acknowledgement.

Twenty minutes later, the whole group was trailing into the cabin, with Rich enthusiastically taking the lead. There were trash bags and umbrellas and stuff at the entrance area. It looked bigger than Jeremy thought it would be, though that was probably because most of the first floor was an open area. The big living room was the first thing they saw, furnished like a home decor ad except less minimalistic and more homey.

There were two loveseats and a few cushioned rocking chairs surrounding a shiny wooden coffee table a good distance from the huge fireplace. Small tables were between the seating, two of which holding a pristine lamp. A nice flatscreen TV was mounted on top of that, along with some tall candlesticks. The living room led into a kitchen that was cut off by a long counter lined with stools. There was a door leading to the back of the cabin and another door to the side that lead into a small bathroom.

To avoid lounging around on the couch the rest of the day to make up for the long car ride, the teens decided to head back upstairs and to the second floor. It was a tall place, so there were two flights up and a big wooden railing at the top to look down at the first staircase. Jake got some help from Christine and Brooke, but insisted he was an expert at using his crutches by now. There were four rooms, each with a large bed except for one with two twins. Immediately, Jeremy and Michael chose to room together. Chloe and Brooke shared another room, and Christine was rooming with Jenna. Jake and Rich chose the room with two beds.

There were two bathrooms upstairs, one with a shower and one with a bath. Everyone agreed that they should take a break after such a long car ride, and went into their rooms to put their things away and do whatever. Jeremy rolled his big suitcase into the bedroom he and Michael picked, his best friend trailing behind him.

“How do you think this week's gonna go?” He tried to start some conversation so they wouldn't be unpacking in silence. Michael hummed as he opened the windows, a cool breeze flowing through the room. Jeremy breathed in deeply, the unfamiliar Pennsylvania air feeling so much cleaner than New Jersey. The headache he’d had earlier really let up after getting out of that stuffy van.

“I hope it goes well,” Michael replied. He sat down on the carpeted floor and heaved his suitcase on its side to open it. “Wouldn't be surprised if everyone got bored of each other, though.” Jeremy didn't think Michael was unbiased in his opinion. He never got bored with his friends, but Michael was always more family-oriented. He couldn't blame him, though, as the Mell moms were always pretty comfortable and pleasant to be around.

“Nah, that's just you being lame,” Jeremy snickered, lifting his suitcase onto a wooden luggage rack with the thick straps across it. He opened up his suitcase and made sure he had everything in there. He'd brought two weeks’ worth of necessities, which were all rolled up too tightly and crushed together to avoid having to find a second suitcase. His laptop and its accessories were packed, too, along with some small snacks and emergency cash in case they ran out of food. “Wish we had our consoles.”

“If we had our consoles, we wouldn’t be talking to our other friends unless they were playing with us.” Michael started laying his stuff out on the floor around him, which Jeremy had to step over in order to reach the bedside cabinets. Hopefully the room wouldn’t get super messy the whole week they were here. This could be, like, a practice for when they were sharing a dorm room together. Except they could actually decorate their dorm room. Probably.

Their conversation was always smooth and easy to carry on. It had taken a few months, but Jeremy was close enough to Michael again that he thought they’d only been brought closer together by the SQUIP stuff. Not even a quantum supercomputer could ruin over a decade of an awesome friendship. They got their suitcase contents organized on the small dresser against the wall and on the bedside tables, besides their clothes, which they shoved into the dresser drawers themselves. Their suitcases went under the big bed to save space, and Jeremy flopped right onto the sheets once they were done.

“Hey, no outside clothes on the bed. You’re dirty.” Despite this, Michael flipped face-first onto the bed, too. They both stared up at the ceiling for a while, thinking to themselves. It was kind of weird being in another house with just their friends. Jeremy suddenly thought of all their responsibilities and whether they’d be capable of them.

He’d heard the kitchen was supposed to have some dishware and water in it, but he had to check it out for himself and then figure out some kind of meal plan to feed eight developing teenagers for however long they were staying. Did anyone even know how to cook? Maybe they could live off Lunchables and mac and cheese for a week. They’d also probably have to figure out laundry schedules and make sure no one hogged or cluttered the bathroom too much. Did this place have spare toilet paper?

Living with friends he’s never lived with before had to be an interesting journey. Like, Jeremy knew everyone kind of well, but he didn’t know their daily habits. He was excited to learn about them, though. This was some Team 10 shit.

“This is some Team 10 shit,” Jeremy stated. Michael guffawed and swung his arm over to hit him in the stomach. When thinking got boring, the pair got up and decided to explore the second floor of the cabin for now. They found a small closet with various bottles of Windex and bleach with a vacuum, a sketchy attic hatch with a note from the owner asking everyone to refrain from going up there, and extra toilet paper in a closet in one of the bathrooms. There were big sliding doors out to the front balcony further from the stairs, where Jenna was taking panoramic pictures with her phone.

“Oh, hey,” Michael said once they saw her. He then busied himself with leaning over the rail of the balcony and admiring the view. There wasn’t much to admire besides trees and the main dirt road that dipped into the cabin’s driveway. The nearest town was far enough that Jeremy couldn’t see it at all. He supposed the tree line was nice, though, especially when it was just turning nighttime and blues and purples swirled about the sky.

“Hey,” the girl hummed, turning away from the view to look at the photos she took. Jeremy shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the railing a respectable distance away from her, which she didn’t seem to mind. Some bedroom windows looked out to the balcony, with no one in their rooms visible. For a brief moment, Brooke looked out her window, and Jeremy happily waved to her as she smiled at him before ducking out of sight.

“Do you think everyone will get tired of each other here?” Jeremy asked, trying to start a conversation. Jenna noticed this and clicked her phone off, leaning against the rail herself to look over at him. He didn’t remember really talking to Jenna alone since their flight, which was a shame. She was really easy to talk to. He figured that was one of the reasons people would spill all their secrets to her. “I mean, that’s what Michael thinks. I think we’ll be able to have fun as long as no one suddenly starts shit with someone else.”

“I think living together is kind of overrated, so I get where Michael’s coming from. I didn’t even really want to come, since I have summer homework and I’d take my own room over this place anyway. Still, since we’re only here a limited time? Definitely. Everyone would want to make the most of it before we have to go back to our own families. That’s why overnight trips in elementary are always really looked forward to, even though most people would prefer their own beds.” Jeremy nodded along. He and Michael never really went to overnight field trips in elementary. They were always freaked out by them as kids and Jeremy never really regretted not going.

“I get that,” he said, picking at some splinters on the side of the wooden rail. “Before anyone gets bored, we should dub someone in charge of backup bonding shit in case we aren’t making the most of our time here.” He looked up at Jenna, who was nodding thoughtfully. She seemed interested, but she also fidgeted with her phone a lot. She probably really wanted to take advantage of this prime time for pictures.

“I think you should talk to Rich and Brooke about that. Brooke comes up with good ideas and Rich is good at forcing everyone to participate until he doesn’t need to force them anymore,” Michael joined in. He had wandered over just then and inserted himself into the conversation, most likely satisfied with inspecting the chairs and tables on the balcony as well as how the trees looked. Jenna pointed at him and nodded in agreement. She finally held up her phone with a lazy half-smile and Jeremy understood, pushing off the railing.

“I’m gonna take some more pictures and post them here. Balcony gets the best cell service.” The boys said goodbye to Jenna for now as she turned back around with her phone camera ready and both of them wandered down into the living room. Rich was trying to figure out how the unfamiliar cable system worked, with Chloe and Brooke trying to tell him what shows to stop at before completely losing interest five seconds later. The McDonald’s bag sat forgotten on the coffee table. Jeremy let Michael sit down on the couch to dig through the bag and he wandered into the kitchen by himself, eyeing how much space they had in the pantry and cupboards. Christine and Jake came down from upstairs right then, holding a pleasant conversation about the wood of the cabin’s walls.

“Oh, hey, Jeremy!” Christine greeted once they came into the kitchen. Jake followed at a good pace, looking around at the area. Immediately, she started searching through the cabinets and peeked into the fridge. “We came down to see what food we should get. I don’t really cook, but we can probably figure something out. I used to watch a bunch of Gordon Ramsay videos, so I’m kind of well-versed in the idea of cooking, did you know that? Do you guys want water?”

“I can cook,” Jake offered, managing to lift himself up onto the kitchen island. Jeremy pretended not to look at his biceps. The taller teen made sure his crutches wouldn’t slide off the edge of the counter and held his hands up for Christine to toss a water bottle at him, catching it easily. “I’ll just need someone to help pass stuff to me. These crutches are kind of annoying when I have to move around for the stuff I’m doing.”

“Really? I didn’t know you could cook,” Jeremy hummed, walking over to Christine to grab a bottle of water she held out to him. It was very thoughtful of her to remember he had no depth perception and never caught anything that was thrown at him at all. He felt like the little things she knew about him really solidified their friendship even before they broke up. He thanked her briefly as she got a water for herself. “I can only microwave cups of ramen. Maybe we should just stock on that, get a real taste for college. How’d you learn, Jake?”

“Ah, can’t name any one specific way. I guess I’ve just liked making my own sandwiches and stuff as a kid, which led to me making my own breakfast, which led to me making breakfast for my parents, and then other meals, too. My parents were real good cooks. Obviously I won’t be going into cooking as a career or anything, but I think I’d want to learn how to make more stuff and just have those skills handy.”

“Right! Like today. I can help you out, Jake,” Christine chirped as Jake finished his monologue by drinking most of his water. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards and gave Christine a heartstopping smile. Meanwhile, Jeremy had to get her attention to ask her to open his bottle. “So, I was thinking. I know we’re all tired and stuff, but we should head to town tonight to go grocery shopping and fill up our van’s gas. McDonald’s isn’t really filling, so we could include TV dinners and stuff like that to make sure we have food to eat while we work out a meal plan and everything else we need to do. I don’t want to waste money on food we’ll have to throw out before we have to leave and the next vacation tenant comes or whatever.”

The boys agreed, and Jeremy was really impressed with how Christine took charge of a problem they didn’t even really talk about yet. She was kind of a mess when it came to starting conversations and having to take tests and stuff, so it was always cool to see her excel in things no one else in the group really bothered to get into. For example: Christine was good at planning and helping people follow through on their own plans. She was always so willing to help others while still being independent. Jeremy tried not to delve any deeper into his thoughts about her, instead just looking away from her beaming face and taking a small sip of his water.

Everyone gathered together in the living room sometime after, chatting energetically as an episode of Forensic Files played on the TV. Jake and Brooke got the rocking chairs, while Jeremy and Jenna sat on the floor rug and leaned against the loveseats. Everyone else was sprawled out on the loveseats, eating the few leftover fries and nuggets from the fast food bag.

“Black Mirror is boring, Chloe, and you know it,” Rich argued, pointing a fry at the girl before promptly eating it. He’d been quick to call dibs on the middle spot. Chloe rolled her eyes, arms crossed. She used Netflix way more than anyone else in the group and didn’t usually go on long rants about the shows there, but they weren’t ever surprising to hear. Jeremy wondered how she balanced school, a social life, and Netflix. He remembered Michael joking she was just too powerful for sleep and eyebags. “The only fun ones were the first episode and the number rating one.”

“Those are, like, the only ones you’ve watched, dipshit. Honestly, you’re completely uncultured. I didn’t give you my Netflix login for you to rewatch the same two movies once every full moon.” Her tone was sharp, but her expression was teasing, so her words held no bite. Brooke was thoroughly entertained, looking between her two friends with owlish eyes as she nibbled on a nugget dipped in honey mustard sauce.

“I liked the episode where the Wi-Fi connected pet cobras were utilized by deep web hackers to strangle their owners,” Michael piped in, scrolling through his Twitter feed. A few chuckles rang around the group, though most of them were only half paying attention to the conversation. Rich looked up at him, suddenly interested.

“Is that really an episode?” he asked curiously, sitting up. Brooke finished her nugget and moved to grab another, dipping that in the ranch sauce. She looked like she regret that decision just a moment later.

“No, Rich, you’re just stupid,” Chloe retorted. Jenna laughed softly, glancing up at the girl, then moved her eyes back down to her phone. “You couldn't even open my pocket knife the first time I showed you. It took you, like, ten minutes.” The blond male huffed and waved a hand in Jenna’s direction.

“I’m not a violent guy and it's equal parts frightening and awesome that you even own one of those. And hey, you’re not even a part of this conversation, Jenna, watch your laughter.” His words were more jokingly dismissive than rude, but no one besides Jeremy seemed to notice Jenna’s lips twitch into a frown.

Eventually, Christine ended the bickering by proposing her food plan to everyone. They procrastinated by talking about what food they all wanted, then each of them clambered into the van once they were ready admit they were set to go. Michael was able to take a break from driving when Brooke took the wheel. Him, Jeremy, and Rich sat in the back row after the girls insisted they should feel how carsick the backseats got. They were right.

Jeremy got another headache once they’d started driving. It went away once they were wandering through the store, so he chalked it up to just being inside such a cramped space for so long. When they got back to the cabin, everyone helped unload the groceries and organize everything they’d bought with their collective money. They sat together again, eating TV dinners while watching TV, and then drifted into actual conversation.

“Anyway, I stole the cat’s catnip and tried smoking it myself. Didn’t work out. The cat started to, like, hiss at me, and then wrapped around my foot and turned into these killer Gucci slides,” Rich explained through a mouthful of some cheap pasta dinner.

“Your dreams are freaky, dude,” Jake commented, finishing off his fourth bottle of water that evening. No wonder the guy had such clear skin. It was kind of unfair. “How do you even wake up and remember them? My dreams are, like, dead to me every morning.”

“I dunno, I eat my veggies? Guess it’s just a me thing.” Rich shrugged and Christine hummed thoughtfully. Most of their friends seemed too invested in either Law and Order or their phones to offer their own input, but Jeremy watched the interaction in interest as he nibbled at the cookie spoon from his own TV dinner.

“I heard that dreaming of cats is bad luck, though.” She had finished with her Kid’s Cuisine plate a few minutes ago and was currently mooching off of Michael’s, who didn’t seem to mind. Jeremy reached over with his cookie spoon to take some chocolate pudding from his best friend’s matching blue tray as Christine sat up slightly to elaborate more. “Like, they’re auspicious and whatever. I read it on Facebook.”

“Well, I don’t even know what that word means, so it can’t hurt me.”

“What, auspicious?”

“No, cats.”

Brooke laughed at that, and Rich grinned at her as he twirled pasta around his plastic fork. It was getting late by the time the Law and Order episode had finished and everyone was pretty tired, so Christine, Michael, and Jeremy collected everyone’s trash. Well, Christine and Michael had it covered. Jeremy just kind of had them insist he didn’t need to help and then led them to the kitchen.

“Is anyone else having that gut feeling?” Michael asked once they were alone. The other two glanced at each other, then to him. Jeremy found the trashcan after a quick look through all the cabinets and pulled it out for his friends to dump their trash, including the empty McDonald’s bag from earlier.

“Uh, no? Why, what’s up?” he asked, starting to get kind of nervous. He knew almost everything about Michael, including the fact that he had killer instincts. Every time he suspected something to happen, it happened. If he thought something good was coming his way, he’d probably get a great grade on a test he thought he’d bombed. If he felt the opposite, his car might break down for a few hours or his moms would get on his ass about the state of his basement. Michael had some power of premonition or something. If he felt strongly about a situation turning out good or bad, he was probably right. Probably. “Good or bad?”

“Terrible.” Jeremy watched his friend calmly run a hand through his hair, a nervous tick he'd picked up from one of his mothers. Christine grabbed Michael’s trash from him and dumped it before sliding the trashcan back. “I don’t know. Jenna mentioned it gets crazy flooded in PA, right? I feel like this cabin’s whole ‘being super fancy and isolated in the woods’ thing won’t be convenient if a storm comes. Lightning's attracted to trees, y'know. And umbrellas, I think. Rich showed me a video.”

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see,” Christine hummed, going over to the sink to wash her hands. “You boys sleep well, okay? We’re probably heading into town again tomorrow for snacks, then we’ll go sightseeing somewhere. This place is nice, but I really don’t want to get cooped up in here. Goodnight!” Jeremy and Michael returned the sentiment, watching Christine leave. When the shorter boy turned back to look at his friend, Michael was frowning at the floor, already lost in thought.

“Hey, you want some water? We could probably get a few emergency packs of it tomorrow, if that makes you feel better,” he offered, making Michael look up at him. Jeremy was at the fridge within a few seconds, grabbing two water bottles. They were meant to be for both of them, but Michael was the type to wake up in the middle of the night and chug water until he passed out again. “I mean, I also really want to. Mainly ‘cause I have a killer headache and I think water should help.”

“Yeah. Thanks, dude.” Jeremy handed one to Michael, made sure the fridge was closed, and gestured towards the exit. He followed Michael out of the kitchen and they both bid goodnight to the few friends left in the living room before heading to their beds, changing, and conking out for the night.

Jeremy hoped this week would be great.

-  
-  
-

_Initiating data retrieval procedure._

_Data corrupted._  
  
_Data retrieval procedure complete._  
  
_Loading . . ._

It was so peaceful. The night sky illuminated the room, apart from the soft colors of the television. There was little breeze, but each one was cool enough to send goosebumps over their skin. Stars were visible through the window from where they sat, the twinkling lights as mesmerizing as can be.

They’d waited for the rest of their friends to go to bed. “I don’t mind being left alone, just get some rest,” they’d said. With a false promise to head to sleep soon, their friends had gone. They had sat there for hours, with the TV on low volume, before moving.

They’d seen that kitchen knives were available to use, which was far more convenient than searching for scissors. Once they had one of the sharp knives in hand, they made their way downstairs.

They’d gotten familiar with the basement while everyone else had been unpacking. Most of it was above ground, with the house elevated on top of it, so there were only a few steps down. It was carpeted and cozy, obviously well-kept. A cool breeze came from an open window just a few feet off the ground, slightly cracked open.

They made it down the steep stairs, careful not to make any noise, and opened the closet at the bottom. The spare bedsheets were folded neatly. Had they not found them earlier, they would have had to waste time finding another alternative.

They hopped onto the washing machine, keeping the knife safely pointed away from them, and started cutting the bedsheets into strips. The cloth would usually have to be twisted and braided tightly to be of any real use, but they wouldn’t have to pay much attention to that.

Hanging never really appealed to them.

_Data retrieval complete._

-  
-  
-

Jeremy and Michael had set an alarm for themselves the night before to make sure they wouldn’t sleep in till noon or be rudely woken up by one of their friends. Brooke and Chloe were taking an awfully long time in one of the bathrooms, so Jeremy let Michael lay in bed while he made himself look less Doc Brown and more Jeremy Heere in the bathroom. He had a bit of a headache again, but it wasn’t bad enough for him to bother mentioning it. By the time he was done, the girls were finished and Michael had gotten ready in that bathroom. It really made him wonder how long he was usually in the bathroom every morning.

They went down together, more awake than ever since they were in such new surroundings with their other friends. The group had had sleepovers a few times before, but the knowledge that no one would have to spend time packing their stuff to go home was exciting. It was a pleasant reality to know that they'd really be living together, that all of this was real rather than some longing dream. True to his word, Jake was already in the kitchen making breakfast.

Everyone else had a seat at the kitchen bar, which separated the living room from the kitchen. Brooke and Christine were talking happily, a bowl of washed berries between them. Chloe was chatting with Jenna while Rich sat nearby, playing some puzzle game on his phone. He insisted they help him wake up in the morning, but Jeremy felt like he just enjoyed it when his friends watched him be a real smartypants at sudoku.

“What are you making, dude?” Michael asked, moving around the bar to peek at whatever Jake was doing. Jeremy followed, but quickly stepped over to the fridge for water. When he woke up this morning, Michael had immediately gone for his water since he’d finished his. Jake sidestepped slightly to let Michael look at the pancakes he was watching. He’d been one of the easiest to accept Michael into the group, besides Jenna. It was definitely endearing to see the former nobody (Michael’s words, not Jeremy’s) become close friends with the most popular guy in school. “Do we have chocolate chips?”

“If we didn’t, I would be out of this cabin, buying some,” Jake replied, grabbing the bag of milk chocolate chips off the counter and handing it to Michael, who looked at the bag like it was the moon. He thanked Jake as he opened it and took a big handful, vacuuming them up with his mouth. Jeremy laughed at him and subsequently choked on his water, which was terrifying to him and hilarious to everyone else.

One chocolate chip pancake-filled breakfast later, the group spent the day outside. They explored the small town closest to their cabin, window shopping and eating lunch at some restaurant they’d never heard of before wandering around again. All of them had been given a shit ton of money from their families for fucking around and didn’t really care about saving it for this first full day here. Afterwards, around early evening, they brought some food back to their cabin and camped out on the back porch, which had a great view of nothing but trees.

“I almost wish we had a fire pit, but it’s not like we have s’mores or anything,” Jenna mentioned. Rich glanced at her, his previous smile growing a little tense. Jeremy saw Brooke place a hand on the blond’s back, rubbing it gently.

“Or sticks,” Jake added, currently eating a candy bar. The guy was fit, but he had the biggest sweet tooth out of everybody Jeremy knew. He once ate a dozen Boston cream donuts by himself when they were hanging out and everyone else was too full. “I guess they wouldn’t be too hard to get, though, since trees are basically giant sticks.”

“Branches. Tree branches would work fine, not the whole tree.” Michael shook his head after speaking, finishing off his Dr. Pepper. He glanced up warily to the sky, which was cloudy and grim. It was getting kind of dark, but they’d left the back light on for a reason.

“Anything can be a branch if you try hard enough,” Jeremy piped up. He hadn’t gotten any snacks other than a few bites of Christine’s 3 Musketeers bar. A quick glance at Rich confirmed he was okay. Chloe finished her granola bar, crumpling the wrapper and standing up.

“Great conversation, excellent participation, but I’m heading inside to check out the news report. I chose to carry a jacket around for a reason,” she stated promptly. Brooke gathered her own trash and followed suit.

“I carried your jacket for you. Well, I wore it, ‘cause I’m always cold, but same-same. See you guys, we’ll let you know if it’s actually going to rain tonight!” The two girls waved as they went into the cabin, their friends bidding temporary farewells as they disappeared. Rich stayed for a few more minutes before leaving himself, claiming he also wanted to check out the news.

“And then there were five,” Jake hummed, grinning when that drew a small laugh from Christine. “This is a pretty chill trip so far. I had fun today.”

“Me, too,” Christine agreed with a nod. She fiddled with her candy wrapper as she looked around the group that was left. Jeremy did as well, happy to see that everyone was relaxed and enjoying themselves. Especially Michael. He hadn’t ever done anything like this, and it was super cool. He relayed this to his friends shyly, and they all agreed.

“Nothin’ like hanging out with my favorite people for a week,” the jock of the group chirped, finishing the rest of his candy bar and tossing the trash beside his lap to grab later. “We should’ve done this way sooner.”

“I know you said you wanted to stay home, but I think it was good that you came, Jenna,” said Michael with a kind smile. The girl looked up from where she was spacing out, registering his words and giving an awkward grin in return.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Her voice was soft and kind of shy. Christine patted Jenna’s arm, earning a small pat in return. The conversation continued for a while until they decided it was getting dark enough to make the woods seem creepy. Everyone went inside and ate the rest of their TV dinners, happily chatting until the subject of the weather came up.

“It’s supposed to start storming real late at night,” Rich explained, seeming much more cheery than he should be. “It’s gonna be thunder and lightning and all that shit. I’m probably gonna stay up late to see it and try to get a pic of the lightning.”

“Just don’t keep anyone up, alright?” Jake chuckled and spooned instant mashed potatoes into his mouth. Jeremy really didn't know why and where he bought such a large container of it.

“You could literally sleep through everything, Jake,” Rich teased, kicking back into the sofa and taking a sip of his root beer. Chloe murmured something about Jake sleeping through the Fourth of July, which Brooke laughed at.

Once everything was cleaned up and the conversation was wrapped up, they all returned to their respective beds. Although, for some reason, Jeremy couldn’t sleep. His headache had been mild throughout the day, but now it was more noticeable. It wasn’t, like, a migraine or anything, but it was weird how it got worse just before going into the room. Michael was already asleep beside him, drooling unattractively. He was able to drift off around midnight, but woke up some time later.

With Jeremy’s luck, the headache just became more prominent when he came to. Outside, the rain came slowly at first, then sheets of it just came pouring down onto the cabin. Not long after, lightning flashed through the window, followed by booming lightning. He groaned and lifted his head to grab his pillow, shoving it onto his face. Of course, it did nothing to mute the sound. He probably laid there for half an hour or so before deciding to get up and do something about his head. When he looked at the alarm clock in the room, though, it was blank. He tried the lamp next to his side of the bed, but it didn’t turn on.

Of course the power was off. Honestly, he would be more surprised if this obscure cabin managed to keep its power five seconds into light rain. Jeremy figured he’d just get some tap water from the kitchen, since the bathrooms were definitely not a place to drink from. Connotation and all. He tried creeping out of bed, but Michael jerked awake, making him jump.

“Huh?” the teen grumbled confusedly. Jeremy was kind of frozen, one foot on the floor as his best friend fumbled for his phone on his bedside. He turned it on to light Jeremy’s face, then squinted at the screen himself. “Jeremy? What are you doing up at two in the morning?”

“Uh, pee.” A beat passed. “I mean, I just wanted a drink since I can’t sleep, but peeing is usually my go-to answer. I’m doing both now.” Michael kept his eyes squinted, pointing the phone light at his friend. Jeremy doubted it made him see better, he was blind as a bat.

“Whatever, dude, just don’t drink your own pee,” he said tiredly, clicking his phone off. Jeremy snorted and crawled the rest of the way off the bed. He didn’t realize it was two o’clock. His headache was, like, warping time or something. Jeremy unplugged his own phone, checking the battery, and deciding to just use the unlocked screen as his flashlight in hopes of conserving it.

The cabin was dark, as expected, the only light besides his phone being the dim moonlight coming through the balcony doors. All the bedroom doors were closed. The only thing that was odd was the dampness of the carpet right next to the sliding doors. Jeremy avoided it, furrowing his brow at the gross feeling. His headache very much did not enjoy that, as a particularly harsh pulse rattled the base of his skull. He placed a hand on the stair banister as he passed, guiding himself to the stairs. The smooth railing contrasted greatly against the crashing waves in his skull at the moment. It seemed to be getting worse, and the thunder really wasn't—

Jeremy paused suddenly. His hand had bumped against something. He shone his phone light onto it curiously. It was a rough, white cloth, tied to the railing. It continued down, on the other side of where Jeremy was standing, swaying ever so gently. He leaned over the rail, peering down, trying to see where the cloth led. Just then, his phone screen went black. He cursed and clicked it on again, but didn't get to enter his password before a flash of lightning illuminated what was attached to the cloth. _Who_ was attached to the cloth.

Jeremy screamed, almost dropping his phone. His heart was pounding, blood rushing to his head, eyes wide and horrified and _what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck._ He only paused in his shock for a millisecond before rushing around the railing to the staircase, the delayed thunder booming through his core and sending terrifying vibrations into his brainstem. In his panic, he briefly heard a door open, then another, and another. The confused and concerned voices of his tired friends went ignored by him as he stumbled down the stairs, this time actually dropping his phone as he went.

“Help! Get down here and fucking help me!” His skin was cold, he was shaking, he couldn't breathe, he didn't know what the fuck to do. Jeremy made it to where his friend hung, just a meter above the last few stairs. He couldn't get them up, they looked so pale, they were limp, how long had they been hanging there? His head felt battered, like someone had beaten it in with a metal bat and stomped it into the ground and compressed it into a crushed little mess.

He jumped the rest of the way down the stairs, running to the kitchen and quickly grabbing a knife out of the holder. He could hear his friends shouting in alarm, sharing his horror, and Jeremy couldn't remember a time he ran this fast. It took seconds for him to bolt up the stairs, knife in hand, rush to the banister, and start stabbing and slicing and sawing at the knot of the cloth.

Someone registered what he was doing and they quickly ran to the stairs, another soon following. Jeremy put all his arm strength into getting the fucking cloth to rip and tear until it finally gave way and the weight tugged it down. The people on the stairs caught their friend, all panicky shouts and desperate pleads. The rest hurried down to help haul them to the bottom of the stairs. Jeremy stayed, exhausted and petrified and in immense pain.

He screamed again, dropping the knife and clutching his head as the voices and the thunder and the realization became too much. Shrieks tore from his throat. He could hear everything, feel everything, sense everything, but nothing at all. Jeremy's skull was being twisted and crushed and jumpstarted altogether, an unbearable cacophony of nothing but incredible pain.

And then there was nothing.

And then there was something.

_Initiating system reboot._

-  
-  
-

_Initiating data retrieval procedure._

_Data corrupted._

_Data retrieval procedure complete._

_Loading . . ._

Rich never really knew whether he was a morning person or a night owl. He guessed it was just kind of interchangeable for him. He stayed up late and slept in sometimes, and other times he'd have a great night's sleep and be bright and ready early in the day. Being a night owl sounded more cool, duh, but he wasn't sure it was something he should call himself.

Whichever one he was, he had no problem being awake tonight. In fact, he’d had no trouble staying up for the past week. The anticipation was this trip was so exciting to him, and actually having the trip was even more exciting. How could he sleep when all he wanted to do was pull an all-nighter with his friends and then pass out at eight in the morning? So yeah, here he was, hanging out on the balcony by himself. The moon was big and bright and the huge clouds didn't quite block it, allowing it to make him glow in a way he thought was super cool. It was supposed to start raining soon, and he could already hear the distant booms of thunder at a distance.

As he got his phone ready to take pics once it started storming, he heard the balcony doors slide open from behind him. Rich whipped around, surprised, before laughing softly at his own shock.

“Oh, it's you. Me and the moon were having a chat, but I guess we wouldn't mind some company,” he joked, keeping his voice quiet for the others still sleeping. The other person laughed softly and his face lit up at the sound. They left the doors open and made their way to the railing beside Rich, propping an umbrella at their feet and then leaning on the railing with both arms. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn't sleep. Thought I could convince you not to get electrocuted trying to get a selfie with lightning,” they hummed, voice tired. The storm had barely hit yet and the rain kept going from light drizzles to no rain at all. Rich shook his head, glancing at his friend cheekily.

“Sorry, you're shit outta luck. Storms and I are in a very committed relationship.”

“I'll have to find some way to get between that, I guess.”

The comment was witty and said with such a charming smile, Rich snorted and found his heart swelling. He did have feelings for this person, once upon a dream. Those were pretty over with now, though, and he was glad they got to be friends.

“Careful there,” he teased, chuckling. His friend raised a brow at him. “‘s pretty romantic under the moon like this. I might take your words to heart, y'know.”

“Romantic? Maybe I was the one to ask Lady Moon for a favor tonight, you'll never know,” they teased right back. Rich turned his body some to face his friend better, and they did the same. He eyed them for a moment, their gentle smile, their relaxed posture. “This is coming out of nowhere, Rich, but I'm really glad we got to come here together. I mean, our friends, too, of course, but you're probably the main reason I came. I didn't think I'd ever get around to telling you that.”

Rich was entirely taken aback. Heat crawled up his neck at the confession, and he had to look away from the piercing eye contact his friend made. A flustered chuckle made its way out of his throat, the sound making him wince. He wasn't really sure what was happening right now, but he found himself not hating it. This was new. This was… really chill, actually.

“O-Oh, well, there you go. You told me.” His hand that wasn't holding his phone came up to scratch the back of his neck. The person hummed in reply and turned to look at the sky again. Rich was grateful. No way he could stand looking at them straight-on. “Um, I'm… glad, too. You're cool. I'm, uh, I'm flattered. Thanks.”

“No need to thank me,” they sighed softly, almost silently. The only reason Rich caught it was because of the night's quiet. “You always seem to like storms. Why is that?”

“Yeah.” He could talk about storms, this was something he could do. “You know I don't exactly have the number one dad. When I was a kid and mom was gone, my old man never really stepped up to comforting me whenever there was major thunder and lightning. Can't remember a time I even saw him during one of ‘em. Mom, though, she… I had this nightlight, right, and it was in the shape of a lightning bolt thing. And my mom, what she would do during storms, was plug that thing in and have my head in her lap and just run her hands through my hair to, like, calm me down?

“And whenever I was propped up like that, head in her lap, I just got the perfect view of that nightlight. When she was gone, I—it wasn't like I had her to lay my head in her lap and fall asleep real easily, y'know? But I still had that nightlight. I'd just stack up some pillows, prop up my head, and there it was. Lightning bolt, right there, right in my line of sight. I think I want to pass it down or find something just like it, just to get rid of my future kids’ fears at some point. Plus I think lightning is really cool when you look at it. Benjamin Franklin was onto something there.”

He glanced to the side and his friend was listening intently, a small grin on their face. Rich laughed again, soft and polite and flustered.

“Uh, sorry. I just dropped, like, fifty pages of my autobiography on you,” he apologized. His friend shook their head.

“I like hearing about you. You're a good guy, Rich.” It was so genuine, so kind, so gentle. How could he not believe that they meant it? He looked away again, blushing noticeably. Hopefully the soft moonlight didn't make his flush look awkward.

Just then, it started to rain. Well, not really, but the drizzle was much more noticeable than the previous times. Rich grinned and raised his phone, turning around to take pictures of the rain visible by the balcony light. His friend jumped in surprise at the droplets on their skin and they quickly grabbed the umbrella they’d brought, raising it above their head at the same time that they opened it.

“You know lightning is attracted to umbrellas, right?” Rich asked, shielding his phone with his body to check out the pictures he took. An idea popped into his head and he grinned at his friend. “Hey, strike a pose with that thing. Maybe you won’t get struck by anything and I can catch a picture of you when the lightning comes.”

They looked reluctant, but before they could answer, a flash of lightning lit up the sky. Rich insisted and took a few steps back, pointing his phone camera back at them. His friend seemed to soften and leaned against the railing again, looking up at the moon and stars. Thunder rumbled again and it started raining heavier. Rich barely noticed the balcony light going out, but kept his camera focused on the dark figure that was his friend. He started to hold down the shutter button until thunder flickered over them.

“Okay! Uh…” He opened his photos and looked through the more recent ones. When he found what he was looking for, a swell of pride rose in his chest. “It worked! Look!” Rich rushed over to his friend to show them the photo, their relaxed expression glowing in the natural flash of light. It wasn’t a picture of actual lightning, but it looked damn good. His friend agreed and looked over it with a proud, smile. Rich could see it was a little tense and decided he should quit the photoshoot before it actually started pouring. “Let’s head back inside now. Wouldn’t want you to get a cold.”

He led them back into the cabin, letting them shake off their umbrella before bringing it inside. The rain had kind of leaked inside, wetting the carpet, but Rich just closed the sliding doors silently and hoped the floor wouldn’t get moldy. When he turned around, he was met with his friend, standing right in front of him.

“What is it?” he asked, backing up some. His back hit the glass door. They stared at him for a moment, serene. After a moment of eyeing his confused expression, his brown eyes, the faded red in his hair, they smiled softly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Great, actually,” they said at a whisper. Before Rich could say anything else, they moved in closer and their lips were on his. He was surprised; of course he was surprised! But almost on instinct, almost like he’d wanted this to happen, Rich dropped his phone on the floor with a very quiet thud and raised his hands up to his friend’s shoulders. He was kissing back, careful and smooth, and his body was floating and his brain was fuzzy. Where was this coming from? It was pretty nice.

The moment was soft, tender, and peaceful.

And then it wasn’t.

Rich’s skull exploded, right from the brainstem, engulfing his entire head in familiar, excruciating pain. He broke away with a gasp, clutching his temples. He hissed and looked up at his friend, about to gasp out for help, when the lightning flashed again and he saw them. Really saw them. Their face was cold, emotionless. A hand came up to cover his mouth, and he could barely suck in a breath to scream at the raging fire in his skull before the damp umbrella came to his neck and pressed right against his windpipe. The scream was stopped before it even started, turning into choked breaths and desperate croaks. His hands clawed at his head, then the umbrella, then his friend’s arms, trying to get them away, _get away, let go of him, let him go—_

Thunder boomed and boomed and lightning flashed and rain came down heavily and his brain hurt and his throat hurt and _he couldn’t fucking breathe what was this what was this what the fuck was even happening right now—_

They gave one hard push against Rich’s neck, against the glass, and his legs buckled. They dropped the umbrella then to replace it a millisecond later with their own hands, tired of his struggle. He could wake other people up if they weren’t too quick with it. They’d had their fun. They clutched at the sides of his throat, really cutting off his air, and put as much pressure at they could on his hard windpipe. They knew the exact spots to press on, the exact way to apply pressure. There was a crack, then a broken breath, then nothing. Rich collapsed fully, limp and wide-eyed and jaw hung open. They held their hands there for a good few minutes, then released one to check for a pulse.

_Initiating data transfer procedure._

_Insufficient energy. Data transfer corrupted._

_Shutting down . . ._

Nothing.

They took their other hand off his neck and wrapped their arms around his (was it really even a “him” anymore?) waist, carrying him to the banister. They’d twisted the sheets the night they cut them, then knotted them to the railing when they came back upstairs with the umbrella. It was a good place to set up, where Rich’s body would be one of the first things for everyone to wake up to. Everything was set up without anyone suspecting anything. It was easy.

A noose was already tied at the end of the cloth. They’d made sure it was at a good height earlier. A quiet and quick run to the bathroom, then two minutes of clean-up time to get his expression more suitable and their fingerprints off his skin was all the extra time they needed. They looped it over the corpse’s head, testing whether it would tighten, and lifted Rich’s body again with a near-silent grunt. He was heavier than he looked, but still easy for anyone else in their friend group to maneuver him over the railing. They let him go. He dropped quickly, another cracking noise coming from below, weight straining the cloth, but they weren’t fazed. They moved down to the stairs, bringing the umbrella with them.

He was swinging from the fall, almost comically. They chuckled to themselves and watched him there, eyes closed, mouth set in a thin line, arms idly following the swinging. They pushed his legs aside with the umbrella to walk past and dry the umbrella off before placing it right back where they found it, then ducked around Rich’s body when they went back upstairs. Careful not to wake anyone, they changed into dry, comfortable clothes and carefully got back into bed, relaxing immediately.

They were so unbothered by what they’d just done, they fell asleep within minutes.

_Data retrieval complete._

-  
-  
-

Jeremy wasn’t in as much pain as he was before, but it still hurt like a bitch. That, or the adrenaline was still pumping. Either way, the fear was still there even after the pain went. What had just happened? What did he just see? What was going on? His surroundings flooded back to him.

_Welcom e ba _k._

“Fuck, fuck, no, no, no, this can’t be happening,” Jeremy whimpered to himself, pulling at his hair. His friends were clamoring on the lower floor. “Rich. Rich, what did he—? Why are you back? You’re not supposed to be back!”

_E ner __ l e ve l i nsuc f f icie n t . Pro c e s __n_ po w e r d e l a ye d._

“What the fuck?” Jeremy was at a loss. He had just seen Rich dead. He had just been swinging there, from the railing, just meters away from his room. The SQUIP was back, and it sounded staticy and broken, like a glitching computer. What the fuck?

“Jeremy! Get down here!” Michael called from below. Jeremy quickly scrambled up, headache completely gone now. He rushed around the railing yet again and basically launched himself down the stairs, nearly falling as he made his way to his friends. Everyone had rushed down, even Jake with his crutches. They were gathered around their friend, fully awake and fully horrified.

“One of you help him!” Brooke cried, face red and wet from tears. She was crying the most out of all of them. Jeremy didn’t even realize he’d been crying himself. “Please, oh my god, Rich—” She started sobbing openly, and Chloe was too paralyzed to even comfort her. Jeremy felt pressure in his chest, around his lungs, but he tried to keep himself together.

“Fuck, fuck, okay, just-just give me space. Give him space.” He squeezed into the group and kneeled beside Rich’s chest. His friends had already removed the cloth from his throat, and it had fallen in a pile over Rich. His neck was something out of a haunted house; blues and purples and almost black. The bruises there were uneven and fresh. He reached up with shaky hands to find a pulse, but jerked back when Rich’s head just lolled to the side far easier than it should. Hesitating, Jeremy place his fingers again and searched for a pulse. He kept moving his hand around, using the other to keep his head still, trying to find something, anything, but there was none. “He-He’s dead.”

Saying it aloud felt heavy on his tongue. Brooke wailed, others were crying, Michael demanded to figure it out himself and scooted in closer to try what Jeremy had. When Rich’s head proved to be unnaturally easy to move, the boys shared a scared look. Jeremy reached down again and resisted the urge to retch as he cupped the back of Rich’s head with his hands and moved it somewhat.

“His neck—oh god, fuck.” He couldn’t even finished. Everyone else caught on at the exact same time, and Christine and Jenna even scrambled up to rush away. The sounds of them puking in the kitchen sent chills down Jeremy’s spine and he gently set Rich’s head down. “He-He was limp when I saw him, but I didn’t fucking realize this.”

_Ri g o r m or t _ s ._

“What?" Jeremy asked.

“Huh?” Michael asked.

The SQUIP went silent again. What did it say? Something about processing power? Jeremy shook his head and decided not to bring it up yet. He shouldn’t overwhelm everyone with more than one problem at once.

“Rigor mortis, w-when does rigor mortis set in?” he asked, more to himself than anyone else, He tried to remember what he’d read in some human physiology book years ago. Jake’s eyes snapped to him quizzically, wide and lost and scared, and he quickly explained, “when a body stiffens up after… yeah.”

“Rigor mortis,” Chloe repeated, barely loud enough to hear. Jeremy looked at her, but her gaze was glued to Rich. She looked incredibly pale, even in the dark of the early morning, and her whole body was shaking. “Uh, a-around two hours after death, I think. Is it…?”

“It’s not affecting Rich yet,” Michael piped in, filling the silence. Even he was tearing up. He had to take his glasses off to wipe his eyes. Jeremy’s throat was dry. “He was completely slack when we caught him. He was—this was so fucking recent. Fuck.”

They sat there, not knowing what to do. The night was too silent, even the pouring rain starting to slow. Jenna eventually came back with her phone out, and tried to contact 911. When she was unable to, the others scrambled for their own phones and tried themselves with no luck. Christine came back eventually and didn’t even look at Rich as she rushed upstairs. She came back down with her blanket and Jeremy helped her lay it over their friend. Michael seemed to be in deep thought as he stared at the body until it was covered. He volunteered to help move him and ended up carrying him upstairs to his bed since there was really no other private spot to put him, with Jeremy following to move the bedsheets out of the way. They gathered all of Jake's things from the room and brought it all to the hallway, closing the door behind them.

Afterwards, the group stayed in the living room together, silent and at a loss of what to do. It was starting to rain heavily outside again, but the thunder seemed to get further and further away. Water was rushing down the driveway outside and as horrible as the situation was, no one wanted to try driving the van through rushing water. Until the storm let up or the service magically reappeared, they were stuck here. Jeremy would be lying if he said he could breathe correctly.

“It doesn't make any sense,” Michael said suddenly, looking through some drawers in the kitchen. A few people, Jeremy included, jumped at his voice and their heads snapped to him as he stood behind the kitchen bar. He'd been searching for matches to light the candles on the mantle and managed to find some boxes around the first floor. He gathered the small boxes and brought them to the coffee table where the group was gathered.

“What do you mean?” Christine asked from her spot beside Jeremy. Michael lit a match with a quick flick, leaning against the side of the loveseat they were on. Jeremy knew the lack of sitting to mean that he didn't want to lose his intense train of thought. Michael didn't even look up from the lit match for a few more moments, brow furrowed.

“Rich was one of the people to insist we come here. He was hyping this place up and bragging about how we landed a spot this great,” Michael started as he strolled forward. He blew some dust off the wicks and lit the candles carefully.

“And?” Chloe spat, obviously offended. Jeremy couldn't blame her. This didn't seem to be going anywhere besides criticizing Rich for what he did. Not only to himself, but for the friends he knew would find him.

“And so why'd he do it?” the teen continued, finally lifting his gaze. His eyes were sharp and narrowed, as if trying to figure out some AP Calc lesson he was absent for. He waved the match to get rid of the flame. “Why lure us all out here if he was planning this? If he was, why choose to put time into shredding whatever he shredded to make a rope to make a noose? Why in a spot literally everyone would have to pass by? Why would he subject us to that?”

“Why’d a famous comedian kill himself, huh? Why do famous musicians kill themselves, even though they're supposed to be so content with their lives? Rich was depressed and we didn't fucking see it and he fucking hung himself in plain sight to punish us.” Chloe was gripping the armrest of the seat, glaring daggers. Brooke was on the other side of the loveseat, still crying silently. The middle seat was empty and no one wanted to point it out.

“Why would Rich jump from the fucking railing, Chloe?” Michael said, pushing off from the couch and towering over the girl at his full height. He might not have been an intimidating guy in general, but Chloe shrunk at the intense look on his face, shadowed by the dim candlelight. “No stool, no chair, no ladder. He was a meter above the step right below him. His neck is broken and he was almost totally still, so it's not like he hopped off the stairs themselves. Why would he jump off the railing to hang himself when there are so many other, easier ways to do it? Why on the railing in the first place instead of a ceiling beam above the main hallway?”

“What are you implying, Michael?” It was the first time Jake had spoken up during this whole thing, and he sounded absolutely broken. He and Rich did have a major falling out after Halloween, but Jake always let Rich know he forgave him. They were almost as close as they had been before the party, and now… Jeremy glanced at Michael, then kept his eyes on Jake. He couldn't imagine what the jock was feeling.

“There are so many fucking things that we didn't understand about Rich,” Michael said, eyeing the room with a wary and defensive look in his eyes. When he looked at Jeremy, he softened slightly. That expression was gone within a second as he addressed everyone else again. “But one thing we do know; he cared for his friends. He cared for us. He wanted us to have the time of our lives living together, if only for a week, and he ends up killing himself before the third full day? By leaping off the fucking second floor to a spot literally all of us would have seen him no matter who found out first? Rich didn't hang himself. I refuse to believe he did. No, this was fucking staged.”

A beat of silence washed over the group, Michael standing tall and pissed and determined in a way that Jeremy had never seen him. Brooke had a hand over her mouth, staring at the boy with wide eyes. Jake was shaking his head, though he looked torn. Jenna was staring, more stunned than anything else. Christine was looking at the floor, arms crossed, like she was in deep thought. Chloe shot up and started arguing immediately, as angry as the flame.

“Fuck that! Not everything's a fucking conspiracy, Michael, not everything is shady and has to be questioned and is the cause of some deeper meaning!” she shouted, almost muting the pouring rain. She was flushed out of anger, but her voice was different than usual, like she was holding back tears. Brooke looked at her friend like it was her first time seeing her. “Rich had the worst life out of all of us! A dead mom, a deadbeat dad, friends he felt like he had to put a mask on in front of. He killed himself because we couldn't see how much he needed help and he made sure we knew he wanted us to see!” She suddenly whipped around to look at Jake. “You were his best friend. Do you fucking think anyone here could have hurt him?”

Jeremy held his breath when Jake didn't answer immediately. He looked devastated, but contemplating, like he knew what he thought but didn't know how to say it. His eyes looked shiny with unshed tears as he looked up at Michael and he was blinking rapidly, trying not to let them fall. Chloe's face fell, and she looked at Brooke. The blonde girl avoided her gaze, instead staring at the lit candles. Michael frowned.

“You're all fucking psycho,” Chloe hissed. “You can't even respect Rich when he's dead.” Michael didn't let her start another fit.

“And you're outnumbered. Look, I know it's fucking terrifying to think about, but think about it. If you wanted to kill yourself, no matter how badly, you wouldn't hop off a railing and snap your neck just to be obvious about it. You'd use a chair or something, right?” Chloe didn't say anything, but after a moment she sat down. “He didn't do it under a ceiling beam, like I said, which would be the most obvious place to. His neck was—fuck. It was broken so obviously and bruised in different places, we all saw it.”

“Rich told me this one time, when we were walking,” Jeremy piped up quietly, glancing at Michael in support, “he would never kill himself by hanging.” The more he spoke, the more he remembered from a conversation they once had when they were feeling down. Everyone had gone silent, even Brooke. Jeremy started to fidget under all the attention. “We were talking during a bad day of ours. We were just venting, we never actually admitted to wanting to do it, but Rich said he'd never hang himself. He said it was too much effort for a guy who could barely tie his shoelaces. I still believe him.”

“I saw this PSA once,” Christine started suddenly, drawing everyone's gaze away from Jeremy as he gave her a grateful look, “something about domestic abuse or whatever. The victim's neck was all blotchy and different colors, depending on where the palm and fingers were squeezing. Rich looked just like that, but more… I guess more confident? Like whoever did it knew what to do. Hanging can’t replicate that even if he did jump that far, there's no way.”

“He was choked to death.” Jenna said it more like a statement than a question, voice tight. It seemed like everyone was either crying or wanting to cry. Jeremy felt sick again. Christine nodded, and Michael looked like it made complete sense. He took his phone out of his pocket and quickly opened the Notes app, starting to type without a title. Jeremy didn't know what to think.

“There we go,” the teen said grimly, taking notes right onto his phone. No one bothered to question it. If they had a Whodunit? situation on their hands and the cops would have to get involved, someone had to be recording everything.

“No one we know could've come in here during the storm, do that to one of us, then get out,” said Jake, running a hand over his face. He sat a bit straighter and crossed his arms. Everyone suddenly seemed more more tense. Jeremy glanced at Chloe to see if she would rebuke, but she looked just as wary and freaked as everyone else. No one spoke.

“So one of us did it,” Jeremy said when no one else wanted to. Everyone's eyes shot to him, wide and teary and utterly afraid. He shakily stood up and stood beside Michael. His throat closed up the more he stayed quiet, so he tried to speak at a good rate. “Let's all just state our alibis, okay? Just to get an idea of what we were doing.” Everyone stared at him, so he decided he should start.

“I had a headache. Well, that's—I've had a headache since the car ride here, and I mentioned it to Michael. I dunno if I brought it up when we were buying all that water.” The more he spoke, the more he realized how shitty his alibi was. They'd have to trust Michael. Otherwise, they'd have to come up with reasons why their own alibi was better than his. “I could barely sleep. I managed to at midnight for a little but, then I woke up again and accidentally, uh, I woke Michael up when I was trying to get out of the bed to get water. That's why I was out of my room, why I was… the first one there.”

He could tell he sounded like he was bullshitting. He could tell everyone else could tell, and they could probably tell he knew they could. No one said anything, they just thought to themselves. Jeremy leaned down and grabbed the matches, deciding to busy his hands. Michael took a deep breath, exhaled, and spoke.

“I was asleep until Jeremy woke me up. I remember I took my phone and I looked at him and then at the time, and I asked what he was doing up at two AM. He told me he was going to use the bathroom and get water, in whatever order, and he left and I went back to sleep. It was just a few minutes later that he—that everyone else was woken up.” He looked around the room expectantly once he finished, phone ready to take notes.

“I fell asleep around half-past midnight,” Jenna volunteered. Jeremy couldn't help but glance at Michael, and his face was screwed up in concentration as he typed, with little pauses between bullet points to look at the speaker. He looked like he was trying to take in every syllable. “I know it was half-past midnight because I was playing some offline crossword puzzle on my phone and I set my phone alarm to half-past eight so I could get good sleep. I always do that before bed. Christine was already sleeping by then.”

“Yeah, just a little while before that. I'd just read up to act three of Macbeth and decided to continue it in the morning.” Jeremy trusted Christine immediately. He remembered her saying she'd read one act of that play every night. She was one to believe looking at your phone right before bed would make you have a much harder time sleeping.

“Me and Chloe went to bed at the exact same time. We turned out the light at eleven and put on our sleeping masks together and everything,” Brooke whimpered. She looked at her best friend, finally. “We wake up early together for breakfast, it's what we always do. It wasn't like we could stay up looking at our phones anyway. No internet.” Chloe confirmed this by nodding, but didn't contribute. Everyone looked at Jake. He was the one sharing a room with Rich. Jeremy wanted to know what the guy was thinking.

“He came into our room for just a bit. Ten, twenty minutes.” No one pointed out the fact that Jake couldn't even say his name, or that he raised the back of his hand to swipe under his nose very briefly instead of sniffling audibly. He looked too close to losing his composure and one word about it might have him tipping over the brink. “Said it again, reminded me, he wanted to try for a picture of the lightning. Told me I didn't have to leave the light on for him, he'd be taking long to figure it out. I told him to stay safe and he smiled at me and he closed the door on his way out. I slept at eleven, like I usually do. I know ‘cause that's what my phone said when I plugged it in to charge.”

Besides whoever killed Rich, Jake had to be the last person to see his friend alive. Feeling grim, Jeremy took another glance at Michael, who looked satisfied with what he’d typed and was just adding to some parts of it. He could never imagine how he'd feel if he spoke to him for the very last time and didn't even know it. Michael looked his way and caught his eye briefly, and the brunet wondered whether he was thinking the same thing. He shook the thought away and cleared his throat quietly, lighting a match. Suddenly, the SQUIP's glitched-out voice rang in his head, nearly making him drop the thing.

_P h_ ne ._

Phone? Who's phone? How was that relevant? The SQUIP didn't answer. It didn't seem to be very helpful here. Maybe the Mountain Dew Red damaged it rather than shut it down completely. He didn't have time to wonder, just focusing on lighting a candle before the match burnt to his fingers. Michael ran a slow hand through his hair and then let it drop to his side, shoving his phone in his pocket again.

“Who would want to kill Rich? What was their game plan and their goal? Obviously, they had it ready. They made a rope out of cloth and tried to make it look like he killed himself. If he hadn't been so upbeat this whole time, and if we left the thing around his neck, I would've thought he really did commit suicide,” he admitted. Everyone glanced around at each other uneasily. It was only now sinking in that one of them was a murderer, and no one knew who to trust. Christine sighed softly and stood up along with Michael and Jeremy.

“Okay. Okay. The flood should go down in a bit, once the rain’s over. We have lots of water and food that should last us for the rest of the week, maybe longer if we don't eat as much every day. We should all keep track of each other the whole day, just stay in a big group and watch everyone else with our eyes peeled.” There was a lot of hesitance as they thought it over, but eventually everyone agreed.

There wasn't much to do for the next few hours besides blow out the candles once it became daylight. When lunchtime rolled around, Christine let Jake help her with making instant ramen after she found an emergency gas stove in one of the cabinets, most likely as a distraction for him. The rest of them pretended not to notice the suspecting glances they caught the others making as they waited for their food. They all tried to pass the time for the rest of the day, but no one was up for any games or conversation. Jeremy just stared out the window for longer than he ever had. Dinner came by too quickly, and Christine made tea along with some chips they'd stocked up on.

She, Jeremy, and Michael didn't have much appetite and volunteered to set up the living room for the night. They held quiet conversation as they moved the furniture, heads bowed and hearts aching. The day had gone by so fast, yet so slow. No one was sure what to do.

“We have to find a motive,” Michael insisted as he carried a rocking chair to lean against the wall. Jeremy carried the other one and peeked out the window when he got the chance. The rain had almost let up a few times during the day, but never quite stopped. He was glad the cabin was built on a porch. “Whoever did it put so much work into it. It's like they planned it out from the beginning.”

“Thing is, Rich was the most excited for this trip. He even hyped up the basement, which, by the way, has gotta be super flooded by now,” Jeremy said, tossing some of the couch’s throw pillows onto the floor in case someone wanted to use them to sleep on. He bent down and hooked his hands beneath the loveseat as Michael did the same, and the two of them lifted at the same time and set it down a few feet back. They repeated this with the other loveseat, then Michael and Christine grabbed both ends of the coffee table. “They probably underestimated how happy he'd be here. No one wants to die on vacation.”

“I don't know about you guys,” Christine said, huffing as she lifted the table carefully, “but to me, that means Brooke and Chloe are off the table. They were just as excited as Rich, even if they didn't outwardly show as much enthusiasm.” She and Michael set the table against the wall, near the rocking chairs. Jeremy was able to move the lamps and the stands they were on by himself, getting them out of the way to make a big space for everyone. Two people would probably want to sleep on the loveseats. Michael was skeptical and looked at Christine like he was trying to figure out whether she was guilty or not, right on the spot. The girl didn't seem to notice or care.

“We don't know who might be putting up their act. Everyone is acting like they're expected to. They're in shock, or they're suspicious, or they're a complete mess. One of them is lying, trying to mimic the behavior of mourning to cover their tracks. They didn't prepare for everyone to realize this was a homicide. They should be caught off guard.” Jeremy was only silent for a moment before coming up with an idea.

“Then let's take advantage of that,” he said, gathering the pair's attention. “We-We can ask questions. While they're still scrambling to hide everything. Maybe we can find inconsistencies in stories, maybe ask everyone individually and see if everything lines up with their roommate.” Christine and Michael looked at each other, then back at Jeremy. He hated to put himself on the spot, but at least it was in front of the two people he trusted the most in his friend group.

“What about Jake?” Michael asked. The other two knew what he was going to say before he even said it. “How can we account for him?” They took a few moments to think. Rich might have been his best friend, but that didn't mean Jake was off the hook. They didn't want to say it out loud, but he was a big suspect.

“We can't,” Jeremy concluded, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“Then I guess we know who we're interrogating first,” Christine said solemnly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CANT BELIEVE I FINISHED THIS!! I've been writing this thing since the very start of October and I'm so so proud of myself for being able to push through and complete such a long fic!!
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'm very VERY excited to see your thoughts in the comments thus far. please please let me know what you think as you go through each chapter I'll give you my love and my toes I worked super duper hard on this


	2. CONFRONTATION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter includes STAGED SUICIDE and is very graphic!!
> 
> this scene starts from "initiating data procedure" and ends at "data retrieval complete" but maybe skip the death scene entirely in case you're sensitive

After dinner, the three came together and announced their plans for the rest of the group. As Christine explained their intent and procedure for the interrogation and Michael piped in here and there, Jeremy looked at his friends’ faces in search of any indication they were faking their feelings. Brooke’s and Jenna's were crestfallen and drawn tight, like they were trying not to cry or come to terms with the situation. Chloe's was set in an irritated expression, brows furrowed and lips in a tight frown. Jake was almost unreadable, if not for the glistening of his eyes.

Upon hearing he was up first, he glanced around, unsure, but stayed seated in his stool at the kitchen bar as everyone else was sent upstairs to give them privacy. The jock fiddled with his bottle of water, wincing when it crinkled audibly. He set it on the counter and clasped his hands together, but Jeremy noticed the way they were shaking. He sat beside Jake, dubbed the moral support for everyone being questioned in hopes that his more subtle presence could help them to share more information. Michael and Christine would be the ones actually doing the interrogation.

“You fell asleep at eleven PM,” Michael started, his phone on the counter. They'd found a grocery list in the kitchen, which came with a pen. Michael was scribbling Jake's original confession onto the paper, as he would for everybody. They didn't know when the power would come back on, and he didn't want to risk his phone dying and losing all his notes. His role was to be more serious and focused interrogator, which was what he was naturally. When he finished writing and looked up at Jake, the taller male took that as a cue to respond.

“I did. I usually do. Sleeping earlier gives me a chance to rest more, so it's a habit I had to pick up.” Jake nodded at his crutches, which were leaning on the counter beside him. Jeremy didn't quite know how to do his job, but he nodded encouragingly. Jake saw this and hesitated, then continued when there wasn't another question being imposed. “I always plug in my phone when I sleep, because who doesn't, right? The screen lit up, it was the only light I had on, and it said it was eleven. I almost stayed up a few extra minutes for eleven eleven, to make a wish and all that, but my legs were sore from walking around town all day. I just went right to sleep.”

“Sorry to hear your legs were sore,” Christine said, truly empathetic. She would appeal emotionally to their suspect and try to make them as willing to cooperate as possible. Already, Jake softened at her voice. She asked if he slept well until woken up again, and he nodded. “Good.” Michael took his turn.

“Jake, you probably know Rich the best out of all of us. You were really close to him during and after his SQUIP, correct?” At Jake's nod, he continued, “Did he ever complain to you about anyone in or after the hospital? Anything about one of our friends making a snarky comment or giving him weird vibes he just didn't like?”

“No,” Jake answered immediately, tone leaving no room to suggest he was lying. Michael quirked a brow at the confident answer and took a moment to close the app on his phone, then turned it off completely as he prepared to take more notes. “No, he-he loved all of us. Everyone. He'd tell me everything about everything. Stuff like, uh, plans he had with everyone and people he'd thought had done some nice gesture that day, anything about anyone or himself that wasn't an important secret to keep. Everything. After the SQUIP thing, even when he wasn't even done healing, he was that much more friendly. It was like he was just appreciating his friend group for the first time. He told me one time, at the mall, when I said he was so much happier and outgoing? He said he was so pumped he got to show everyone how much he loved them now that he wasn't being fed shit about them being the types of people who’d drop him with one little mistake. He said it was like meeting us for the first time all over again and he wanted to leave a good first impression. Especially, uh, Jeremy.”

The teen straightened a bit, surprised at the specific mention of his name. Jake started fiddling with his water bottle again, tugging at the corner of the label as he awkwardly glanced to the boy beside him. He offered a small smile as he explained, “He—Rich was really glad you were his friend, dude. You in particular, ‘cause he knew how bad he treated you for, uh, I quote, ‘no good reason other than my own benefit.’ He didn't talk about you all the time, yeah, but I think the main thing about you was that he was trying to make up for all the shit he did. He didn't know how to apologize, but… Fuck, uh, on behalf of Rich, I'm sorry you had to deal with that. He thought you were awesome.”

The full situation finally hit him like a punch to the gut. Rich was dead. Rich was their friend, his friend, and he was dead. Jeremy didn't realize he was crying again until Michael came around the counter to place a hand on his upper back. When did he get there?

“You mind getting our bed stuff from upstairs and bringing it down here? Feel free to decide where to sleep, just save a spot for me,” Michael said in a gentle tone, rubbing Jeremy's back in the most soothing way. The brunet nodded after a moment, bringing the front neckline of his shirt up to wipe his tears away before sliding off the stool and leaving. He felt bad about ditching the interrogation so early, especially because it was his own idea, but he needed his private time to grieve just as everyone else.

As soon as he closed the door, he crumbled, dropping to the carpet and heaving with sobs. He and Rich weren't as close as he was with Michael or Christine, but they understood each other more than anyone else could, even Michael. Jeremy always treasured the times they could sit alone together and just talk. Talk about how important it had been to be accepted, how important it had been to be popular, how they were just so alone and afraid and how no one else understood how horrible it felt to try so hard and not make a difference and just be laughed at for it. How the SQUIP was horrible and it wasn’t their fault, not fully, that everyone they cared about got roped into all this. How they still kept themselves ramrod straight everywhere they went unless they were sleeping.

Rich would send texts at two in the morning, detailing a nightmare about his experience or a tiny doubt about how well he was liked, and Jeremy would offer his comfort in return for equal assurance. Rich would call once his dad was knocked out cold on the couch at night just because he felt alone, yet haunted, and Jeremy would only hang up once Rich had fallen asleep. Rich would throw pebbles from the neighbor's gravel driveway three hours before school started, and Jeremy would spend the full three hours with him wandering aimlessly around town, slouching and stuttering and speaking with a lisp with the biggest smiles on their faces and always ending up tardy. Now, the closest thing he could get to talking to the one person he could perfectly relate to was hearing what that person had to say to his actual best friend.

Rich was gone, and so were the dead of night texts, the midnight calls, the early morning walks.

Jeremy felt like if he had just met Rich before, if he had met him in freshman year and became friends with him before he got that stupid SQUIP, he could have been Rich’s best friend. Would all of this had happened if that was their beginning? He didn't think so. He laid in bed eventually and stayed there for however long he did, not even keeping track of time. When the tears had stopped and the shaking had subsided, he sat up and finally got around to collecting all the things they needed overnight. He grabbed his phone and both of their chargers in case of the electricity coming back on, Michael's hoodie, and their pillows and blankets.

He made sure he was presentable, though he knew everyone else probably knew he spent his alone time mourning. His eyes were sore and his nose was irritated, but his face wasn't red or anything. He made sure he wouldn't drop anything and didn't even bother changing into new pajamas as he went into the hallway, which was quiet besides the soft chatter in his friends’ rooms. He noticed Jake's stuff was gone from the hallway, so he assumed he was finished being questioned. He was eager to get back downstairs and listen in on what he could, but he dropped his charger once he started rushing near the balcony doors. With a small sigh, Jeremy adjusted the bedding to hold in one arm as he kneeled down to pocket the charger.

Before he could stand up, though something sleek and black caught his eye. It was a phone, near the wall just a few feet from the balcony entrance. Rain gently came down on the glass as he reached over and picked up the phone, almost on instinct. He clicked it open, noting it was around fifty percent of battery. His gaze slid to the lockscreen, the wallpaper being a cheery group selfie taken by Jake. Brooke and Chloe were smiling behind the jock, but before the girls stood Rich, grinning the brightest out of all of them even with a froyo spoon in his mouth.

Jeremy's blood ran cold. A number rushed through his mind, over and over, encouraging him to act. The SQUIP was trying to giving him the pin. His thumb twitched and he slid it over the screen, poised over the first digit of a dead boy's password. He tapped the 2 key on the screen.

“Jeremy, you up here still?” a voice called from the stairs. He fumbled with the phone, quickly shooting up to his full height at the same time as he shoved the small device into his pocket. Michael hopped up the rest of the stairs, looking immediately relieved to see his friend. Jeremy could really relate. “Hey, buddy, we just finished up with the questions. I'll help you out, give me the pillows.” He grabbed them without waiting for an answer and led Jeremy downstairs, explaining the main points of their mass interrogation as they went.

-  
-  
-

_Initiating data retrieval procedure._

_Data corrupted._

_Data retrieval procedure complete._

_Loading . . ._

They had gone to the bathroom in the middle of the night, pausing when they reached a certain room. The door was open and one sleeping figure was missing unexpectedly. They didn't pay much mind and instead continued to the bathroom.

When they were finished, they meant to make it back to their room. However, the sight on the balcony was too interesting to ignore. Did Rich and their other friend have no self-preservation? It was supposed to be raining hard soon. They shook their head fondly and returned to bed.

They woke up to screaming. They rushed out, panicked. Rich was hanging there, too peaceful for the chaos surrounding him. They looked at the friend who was with Rich on the balcony just a short while before.

They listened intently to the revelation of murder taking place. Someone murdered Rich? They looked at who they saw with him. They were shocked when their friend lied, but stayed quiet.

Interrogations were taking place. They waited until both they and the killer (what else could they be?) were finished, then met with them.

“I know you lied,” they said.

“About what?” the killer asked, barely paying them attention.

“I saw you with him. On the balcony, during the rain. I saw you.” They were scared, unsure of their friend's motives or strengths, but they stood their ground. For Rich. The murderer picked up on this. Rather than getting angry, they raised their hands up in a placating gesture with a serene expression on their face.

“You saw us,” Rich’s murderer said. They nodded, albeit hesitantly. “Yet you didn't say anything?” They hesitated at that. The killer's lips raised in a kind, grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“It was—It was you, then?” they asked cautiously. The killer's smile twitched, but otherwise didn't change. A chill creeped up their spine. They took a step back, towards the door. What were they thinking, doing this alone? “You killed him. You killed Rich.”

“I did.”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

The killer was eerily calm, and they took a seat on the bed. They watched, fearful.

“You know exactly why I killed him. Our friends are assholes. You know that,” the murderer started gently, smile slowly falling. “They don’t care about us. They don’t care about you. They barely even cared about Rich, and now there’s nothing left of him to care for.”

“Our friends love us,” they hissed.

“You know they don’t,” the killer bit back, scoffing. “Even if we love them with every fiber of our being. How many times have they made you feel worthless? How many times have they turned on us, made us out to be the villains of whatever petty shit is happening, lied and backstabbed and kissed up to us just to step over our fucking bodies in a competition to be on top? How many times?”

“I don’t—”

“You know exactly why I killed him,” they repeated, nodding. “I know you do.”

“I’m going to tell everyone else.”

“Why didn’t you tell earlier?” The killer’s posture stayed calm and relaxed, but there was fire in their eyes. Blazing, burning, ready to scorch anyone who came near. Those eyes were pure evil. They felt paralyzed under that gaze. “You knew I did it. You were the only witness. The only one able to avenge Rich. Yet you trapped yourself in this room, with me, knowing I already got away with one murder. Why didn’t you tell?”

Why didn’t they tell? They didn’t know. They didn’t know. They did know. Their chest contracted.

“It wasn’t the right time,” they defending weakly, knowing that wasn’t true. The killer offered another smile, this one even more kind than the last.

“You agree with me,” the killer stated.

“No, I don’t.”

“But you do. You know Rich. You know our friends. You know he didn’t deserve to be a part of us, not when he hurt so many of us and barely made up for it. You know so much. You know how I feel. I could use that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Help me. Just stand by me. Don't tell anyone. I don't want to hurt anyone else if I can help it, trust me, I don’t, but they’ve caught on. I can’t keep this up on my own.”

“No. I’m not going to get involved with you. I can’t.” Even as they denied, they felt their resolve crumbling. They were already so deep into this. The killer knew that, and they leaned forward.

“You’ve kept it a secret for so long already,” the killer whispered dramatically, smile still on their face. “You’re already involved.”

They were so scared. The killer cast a sympathetic look towards them, staring for a few moments before nodding to the spot beside them on the bed.

“Sit with me. We can talk it out,” the killer said comfortingly.

And the accomplice took a seat.

_Data retrieval complete._

-  
-  
-

Which was worse: having one roommate who _might_ be a murderer, or having several roommates knowing for a _fact_ that one of them is a murderer?

Whichever it was, the group decided to go with the latter option. Everyone had set up their sheets and pillows on the floor, with Chloe and Jake taking up the loveseats. The power hadn't come back on yet, but Michael had finished writing out his notes by hand during the interrogations and read them over with Jeremy.

Jake's interrogation didn't last too long after Jeremy left. They'd asked him more about anyone Rich might've wanted to appeal to especially, but Jake's main answer was Jeremy. He also brought up Chloe and Brooke growing closer to Rich. The jock hadn't exactly shed tears, but he was in obvious emotional distress from the beginning. He was dismissed soon afterwards and told to ask Brooke to come down next.

The blonde was probably the most open with her emotions than anyone else. She stopped crying a short time prior, but started tearing up again when asked about her relationship with Rich. Turns out Brooke had been one of the first to really befriend him and she was trying incredibly hard to be as close to him as they were sophomore year, just to prove she saw him as a genuine friend with and without the SQUIP instead of an entertaining husk with some supercomputer inside. She never heard Rich talking about anyone who disliked him or anyone he disliked. When questioning about her alibi, she was able to recall every detail perfectly and quickly.

Chloe was stone cold almost her entire interview. She wasn't skeptical about Rich being murdered anymore; instead, she was skeptical that Michael and Christine and Jeremy knew what they were doing. She said she only came because Brooke really wanted to, but Michael had written a “liar liar” next to that note, so he obviously didn't buy her reasoning. She explained how Rich had wiggled into her immediate social circle and how he became close enough to them to tell the girls everything. Even then, she didn’t recall him ever complaining about a person who annoyed him or anything. Chloe did mention Rich and Jenna not getting along well despite this, so Michael and Christine had her send Jenna down.

Michael had softened here, though he claimed he was completely unbiased. He didn't talk to Jenna as often as he wanted to, but they were still close. Jenna admitted once again that she didn't even want to come on the trip at first. She just didn’t want to be left out and found herself enjoying the time they had spent here, but was now wishing she had discouraged the entire group from coming. She was super cooperative and was able to tell every detail of her alibi matching up exactly with the first time and then some. Jenna said it was true that she and Rich weren’t as close as he was with the others, but she never did anything to hurt him after the rumor about him lighting the Halloween fire. She claimed they barely spoke alone and she probably knew way less about him than Chloe and Brooke did.

Christine was next since she was Jenna’s roommate, and she considered herself to be decent friends with everybody. There was never a pause to her words and she even made up an oath for herself to be completely honest throughout the interview. She wasn’t one to go on long trips, but she thought it was be a fun experience to share with all of her friends. Christine usually spoke to Rich whenever she’d tag along with the other girls in the group, which was fairly often. Still, she couldn’t remember a specific time she and him had ever held a full conversation. They only really spoke about trivial things. She couldn’t account for Jenna since she fell asleep a bit earlier, but she could confirm that Jenna was still on her phone by the time she drifted off.

The next sheet of notes was half Michael’s writing, half Christine’s. He’d written down his initial alibi, explaining it best he could as he wrote down the main details. Michael had volunteered to go next, just to make everyone even. Christine asked about how close he was with Rich, which she already knew the answer to. Michael said they definitely weren’t that close, but they did talk an awful lot over text and DMs. Rich was usually the one to start conversation, and although they rarely hung out alone in real life, Michael thought he was one of the easiest people to talk to over messages. The most negative thing he’d seen Rich send him about a person was when he was talking shit about some classmates smoking behind the gym and always dropping their “ratty ass cigarette butts” on the dirt. There just wasn't much to complain about without something telling you that you had to complain, he guessed.

The last person to be interrogated was Jeremy himself. By then, it was mid-evening, and everyone helped to set up and find more candles to light. He had been brought into the furthest corner of the kitchen and they all sat on the floor to keep out of sight since everyone was already downstairs. No one commented in him being in his room for the whole time they others were being questioned.

“What time did you go to sleep, Jer?” Michael asked, already having his friend’s alibi scribbled down. His handwriting was messier than usual, Jeremy noted.

“Uh, two hours after midnight. Headache kept me up,” he said honestly. Michael nodded, seeing that lined up with Jeremy’s first statement.

“How’s your headache now?” Christine asked, probably more out of genuine concern than the role she had slipped back into.

“It’s gone now,” Jeremy admitted. His friends paused after a brief moment. “What?”

“You’ve had that headache since before we even got here, and now it’s just gone?” Michael asked. Jeremy realized how he sounded, and he shook his head.

“N-No, I mean—well, _yeah_ , that’s what I meant, but-but I’m not lying!”

“When did it end, Jer? Was it gradual? That’s the whole reason you were getting out of bed, right?”

“I-I—yes, it was. It, um, it was—”

“I’ve been wanting to bring this up, and now seems like a good time,” Christine interjected, brows furrowed. The two boys looked at her at the same time. She leaned closer to Jeremy and spoke in a softer voice. “You were screaming, right? Even after everyone came down to… help Rich. You were screaming—more like shrieking, I think. It was just like when we were at the mall, remember?”

Not having to actually admit it by himself was a blessing Jeremy knew he didn’t deserve. He gulped and nodded, mutual understanding coming between him and Christine. Before Michael could ask, Christine turned to explain it to him.

“It’s back,” Michael stated after a beat of silence. Jeremy nodded in final confirmation, only able to keep eye contact with his best friend for just a moment before having to avert his gaze to the countertop. “What is it… What? What is it doing?”

“Nothing. It’s barely on, I think,” Jeremy said. He explained how weirdly it had been communicating, how it sounded like some malfunction in its system. “Something about its energy and processing power. Like it's low on battery. That sounds really lame when I say it, wow.”

“It hasn’t been hurting you?” Michael had let go of what he was writing with and his hands twitched, but he kept his arms down as if he was suppressing the urge to run a hand through his hair. Jeremy shook his head.

“No. I don’t think it can even manage that. The most recent—oh. Fuck, c-come closer, I need to show you guys this.” His voice had gone quieter and he beckoned his friends closer to him. They followed almost immediately, and he took the phone out of his pocket. “It’s Rich’s. It’s gotta be, right?”

“Where did you find that?” Christine gaped, crawling to seat herself beside Jeremy. Michael moved to the other side of him and followed suit. They both leaned over, Michael resting his chin on Jeremy's shoulder, eyeing the device.

“The floor, right next to the glass doors. It's kinda damp there, by the way,” he explained softly, clicking the device on. He couldn't help but eye Rich's face for a brief second before ignoring the attached thoughts and sliding to the security screen. “The most recent time the SQUIP tried to, uh, communicate? It was when I found this, right before Michael came upstairs to get me. It just gave me the first digit.”

“What the fuck? Can you ask it to give you more?” Michael tapped the side of Jeremy's head, and the brunet swatted his hand away. Jeremy went silent for a moment, thinking hard. He shook his head when nothing came up in response. “Shit. Maybe it's a birthday or something.”

The three started whispering about possible solutions, with Michael even pulling his pen out from his back pocket and scribbling different attempts down on the back of Jeremy's notes. Eventually, they were locked out for a fourth time and Christine decided to call it quits.

“We'll just have to figure it out when we get an actual clue,” she said, obviously discouraged. They all stared at the countdown on the screen. “Maybe we should bring it up with everyone to see if they know Rich's password.”

“Rich told me a few times his phone was hella private. He never gave anyone his password, and if he thought someone had it, he'd just quietly change it. No one else can get in, and he never liked the fingerprint thing,” Jeremy said, thinking back. Not that they'd ever use Rich for his fingerprint.

“We should just tell everyone, then,” Michael said, frowning. “Maybe there'll be something useful on it. Even if there isn't, it won't hurt to get guesses from other people. I can keep it with me whenever, if you guys are chill with that?”

Jeremy and Christine didn't take long to decide that was a good idea. Michael was thus dubbed in charge of keeping their evidence in a safe place for when they were able to show them to the authorities. When they wrapped up, the three of them wandered back into the living room to meet with their friends and tell them they had Rich's phone. They’d gotten so deep into conversation in the kitchen, however, they didn't even realize there was an argument going on.

“It was a bad fucking idea, Jake, and you know it. How could you not?” Chloe hissed, voice at a normal volume. It was the venom of it that made her words so aggressive. Jake’s expression was stone as he stared up at Chloe from his seat on the couch. Brooke and Jenna were warily looking between their friends.

“I didn't say it wasn't a bad idea,” the jock defended himself calmly, though he was gripping his crutches tight enough to make his knuckles white. “I'm saying it could've been okay if none of this had happened. I wasn't defending or berating anyone.”

“‘It could've been okay’? Our friend is dead! Your best friend is dead!” She gestured wildly in the direction of the stairs, face flushed out of stress and anger. Jeremy, Michael, and Christine stayed by the kitchen entrance, surprised by the fight. How could they get heated over something so trivial when they had much bigger things to deal with? “If you hadn't pushed it in the first place—”

“Don't even start, Chloe,” Jenna said in exasperation. Her friend's glare snapped over to her. “Rich was one of the people who really wanted this trip to happen. Everyone did, okay?”

“So what, it was Rich's fault for insisting we all do this shit?”

“So what, it was Jake's fault for suggesting it?”

“You can't pretend anyone's to blame for all of us coming on this trip,” Brooke spoke quietly, not even looking at her friends anymore. She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, obviously put on edge by this argument.

“Brooke,” Chloe said, sounding hurt. A second later, and the tone was gone. She was glaring daggers again.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Michael demanded, finally entering the conversation. He quickly walked over, Jeremy and Christine following right behind him.

“It was my bad, I shouldn't have said anything,” Jake apologized.

“No, you shouldn't have. You shouldn't have said anything about regretting this trip, or how it seemed fun before, or how you even wanted to come here!” Chloe was clenching her fists now, scowling.

“Why are you trying so hard to blame all of us?” Jenna asked, starting to look annoyed. The candles around the room flickered from a light gust no one could really feel from a cracked window.

“Because Rich dying was someone's fucking fault, and you're the one who mentioned to him that this shitty trip was being planned in the first place!” She pointed at Jenna angrily, taking a few steps closer to her. Jenna just stood up as well, glaring. “You're psycho. No, you're all psycho! Am I the only one who isn't crying in my own puke, just whining about how we need to find the killer and then not doing anything about finding the killer? Brooke is acting like a damsel in distress, Jenna is just sitting around thinking about god knows what, Jake is trying to lay the victim card on all of us to make himself feel better when the real victim is dead upstairs!”

“We’re trying, Chloe—”

“No! No you're not!” She whipped around to scowl at Michael. “You're asking questions about our past with him instead of focusing on the present. You're trying to dig up stale information! Why does no one else see that we can't trust each other? Everyone here is a suspect and you're just wasting our time, Michael! You're stalling! And everyone is playing into your fucking game, crying over their old friendship with a dead kid instead of giving useful facts that would help either us or the police. You're acting like a leader right now, but you're just everybody's favorite and no one's mean enough to stop your fucking detective schtick. We aren't blind. How do we know you didn't kill him, Michael? How do we know that you didn't sneak back into bed right before Jeremy woke up to see you there?” Michael was speechless. Brooke intervened.

“Chloe! You need to calm down. Rich wouldn't want us to point fingers at anyone besides the person who killed him, and we have no evidence of what happened or who did it, so don't act stupid and start conflicts,” the blonde said, voice shaky. No one else knew what to say. “You're being immature, Chloe. Just stop, okay?”

Chloe didn't seem okay with being called out. No one spoke up to defend her because there was nothing to defend. The girl scoffed and snatched her pillow off the floor, then turned away from the group and stomped off upstairs. Everyone else was silent for a bit. They all cared for Chloe, but she was lashing out at them in the worst way. They didn't know how to deal with it. Michael shook his head.

“We can check on her later, okay?” he said softly. Jeremy couldn't get Chloe’s last few words out of his mind, but he wasn't sure what to think. When a few of their friends nodded in response, he rubbed his temple and brought the phone into their line-of-sight. “Alright. This is Rich's phone. It was on the floor by the balcony doors in the upstairs hall. Ever since I saw it, I've been thinking about how it got there.” It was an effective distraction from the small amount of drama that had been stirring just moments prior. Jeremy figured Michael just didn't want to waste time.

“Jeremy mentioned the carpet right in front of the doors was wet. Damp, more like. Since no one's opened the doors today and there was enough liquid to be noticeable just recently, I figured they were open for a while last night, when the storm was happening.”

“And Rich said he was going to take pictures of the lightning,” Christine said, catching on. Michael nodded at her, and she took that as encouragement to keep speaking. “So whoever the culprit is, they might have attacked him as he was coming in, making Rich drop his phone.”

“Or they could have gone out with him while he had his phone, then did something to him once he was inside,” Jeremy guessed, since he was the one to be most familiar with the placement of the phone.

“Whatever they did, they had to have done it before or after he managed to get photos in. Maybe there are pictures on the phone here to help us determine that,” Michael said. Brooke raised a shy hand as she spoke next.

“How will this help us?” she asked softly, brows furrowed. Chloe's words must have stuck with her. “Rich never gave anyone his password anyway. Maybe Chloe, but… Do you think he took a picture of the person who was with him or something?” Jeremy thought he saw someone tense up in his peripheral, but when he glanced around, everyone was in their previous postures again. His head seemed to pulse a little, like the SQUIP was trying to do something. Maybe it wanted to communicate somehow.

“I didn't think that until you said it,” Michael admitted after a brief pause. He pocketed the phone again, eyeing everyone. He took out the notes he had instead, showing the previous suggestions of the password on the back of the notes. “If you guys have any guesses as to what the password might be, let me know and I'll write them down. For now, though, I think we should all rest.”

“Uh, thanks, by the way,” Jeremy interjected, if only to gauge everyone's reactions. Someone was hiding something. Someone had information they weren't sharing. “For going along with the interviews.”

No tells. Everyone stayed as relaxed or stressed out as they were, and there weren't many words spoken between that moment and the time they all found their spots on the floor and the loveseats. With a few final goodnights, the group was almost completely silent as they tried to sleep. Jeremy realized the rain had let up to a barely noticeable drizzle.

He fell asleep as one of his friends shifted in their sleeping area.

That morning, it was obvious none of them had gotten as much rest as they wanted to. Of course they didn't. Jeremy didn't have to be a genius extrovert to perceive that each of his friends were plagued with the knowledge that one important member of their group was dead upstairs. Still, they all reluctantly said their good mornings to whoever they saw was awake, sitting up as they did. Eventually, some of them were leaning against the loveseats, too exhausted to get up, and the rest were on the seats themselves, too freaked out to get breakfast. By then, the candles had gone out themselves, so there really was nothing to get up for.

Christine was the one to suggest breakfast, and Michael offered to help serve it. He'd given Jeremy the blanket they were sharing on the floor before standing and following their friend into the kitchen. Jeremy looked around at his friends. Jake was rubbing his eyes, like he was trying to wake up fully. His crutches were propped at the other end of the loveseat. Brooke was curled up in a ball on the other sofa, not looking at anything in particular as she clutched her blanket around herself. Jenna was looking at her phone, but clicked it off again once she found no signal. Jeremy glanced at the kitchen, where he could see Michael sniffing the milk from the fridge with an intense face as Christine tried not to laugh at him.

He looked back down, tracing patterns into the bedsheets he was on. It was like everyone was trying to find some way to cope. It was haunting, almost, to still have the idea that someone in this cabin was a murderer. They must have been great at acting if they were. Christine popped into his mind, but that thought didn't last a second. He trusted her and he trusted how much she loved her friends. He also trusted Michael. He didn't have as easy of a time considering himself everyone's friend, but he was as happy as Jeremy was to have them. Even if he didn't like them, Jeremy was awake almost the whole night and two hours couldn't have been enough to commit a murder like that. Michael and Christine were completely innocent in his mind.

That narrowed it down to Chloe, Brooke, Jenna, or Jake. Jeremy tried not to look around at them, keeping his head bowed. Fear filled his throat. How was he supposed to know who did it?

_Chlo e ___ ______._

Chloe what? This thing wasn't being helpful in the slightest.

“Breakfast!” Christine called, voice a faux cheer. Jeremy snapped up to look at her and Michael as they were placing bowls of Lucky Charms on the kitchen bar. The four in the living room glanced around at each other before getting up, Jeremy being the first. Jenna stood and offered Brooke a hand that the blonde accepted. Jake had his crutches ready in a short moment, standing on his own with Brooke quietly asking if he needed help. When he shook his head with a polite smile, they all made their way to take a seat. “I hope you guys slept well. I didn't want to completely waste the milk and I don't think any of us really have a big appetite, so this should be fine, right? Michael checked to make sure it's still good.”

“I like Lucky Charms,” Jeremy said intelligently. Milk dripped from his mouth and Brooke reached over to grab a napkin for him. Michael chuckled from the other side of the counter.

“Yeah, you do, buddy,” his best friend replied, reaching over to spoon one of Jeremy's marshmallows even though his bowl had more of them. Jenna waved him over, and Michael wandered over in front of her as he put his spoon in his mouth.

“I was thinking of some passwords that I know might relate to Rich's life,” she said before scooping a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. Michael visibly lit up and they both started discussing and writing down new passcodes.

“Jeremy, napkin. Also, uh, I think I'm gonna call Chloe down to eat with us. She's probably waiting for someone to invite her, anyways,” Brooke said, only having taken a small bite of her cereal. Christine agreed and made another bowl as Brooke stood. She left in the direction of the stairwell. The next two minutes were spent in peace.

A scream pierced the air. Everyone downstairs froze, glanced at each other, and got up so quickly they almost knocked over their stools. Jeremy was the fastest, leading the group as he took the stairs two at a time. Brooke was in the hallway, sobbing harder than she had when Rich was found. Christine managed to slip past Jeremy and knelt next to Brooke, taking her in her arms quickly. The blonde didn't wait for a question before giving her answer, pointing at the open door of her and Chloe's room with a shaky hand. Jeremy looked over his shoulder at his friends standing behind him, all of them hesitating. Michael was right behind him, a worried look on his face. Jeremy took a short breath in and turned back, slowly making his way into the room.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was coppery and stale, the only window in the room being closed all the way. The ceiling fan was still rotating slowly. Chloe was in the center of the large bed in the room, eyes closed and hair spread around her head on the pillow like a peaceful halo. It was terrifyingly fitting, as Chloe Valentine was dead. Jeremy took a moment to register this, cold and heavy grief creeping up his spine. Her arms were straight out near her sides, hands palm-up. Deep cuts marred her forearms, dark red flashing against light skin. A bloodied pocket knife, her own pocket knife, was open in her right hand.

“Get out of the room, go, _go_ ,” Jeremy said, making a 180 turn and placing a hand on Michael's shoulder to spin him around, too. No one else had followed them in yet, so they left the room and Michael quickly blocked their friends’ way as Jeremy swung the door shut. “Don't go in there, okay?”

“Why? What happened to Chloe?” Jenna said, looking between the boys and Brooke, who was clinging onto Christine tightly. Jake finally caught up, leaning on his crutches at the top of the stairs. “Was it another murder?”

“Doesn't look like it,” Michael said, shaking his head. “She—Fuck, I-I’m pretty sure she did it herself. Let's go back downstairs, guys.” His voice was shaky, and Jeremy wished he could have made Michael wait outside the room with the rest of his friends. He wished he could have just checked on Chloe right after she left the living room last night.

Michael was watching out for Jake, making sure he didn't fall down the stairs. Jenna and Christine were guiding Brooke down, leaving Jeremy alone behind them all. Jeremy thought back to what the SQUIP was saying earlier. It was probably trying to give him a heads up, then. It was functioning enough to know what was going on, he guessed. He followed everyone downstairs and grabbed one of the blankets from the living room, then went back upstairs. He was able to steel himself enough to go into the room again and cover Chloe with it, shutting the door gently. When he went downstairs, his friends had barely noticed he had left.

“I called her stupid, I called her stupid and immature and didn't check up on her, and she—I didn't mean it, I'm so _sorry_ , Chloe,” Brooke said through sobs and hiccups. Jenna had helped Christine sit the girl on one of the sofas, both having taken a seat on either side of her. “It was me, I made her do it, I made Chloe kill herself.”

“Hey, no,” Jenna said firmly. She was holding one of Brooke's hands. “Look at me. Brooke, hey, look at me. It wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything, okay? That was her choice.”

“But-But—”

“No one could have done anything. I—We wish we had, but we couldn't, okay? It was too much for her.”

“I just can't believe she did it,” Jake said in a low tone, watching the girls as Michael helped him sit on the barstool to give the girls privacy. Jeremy followed them. He guessed they didn't want to overwhelm Brooke, so they stayed away. “I didn't know Chloe could do something like that to herself.” His voice was hollow and shaky, but he was obviously trying to hide it. Jeremy sat down next to Jake and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“None of us knew. That's why it happened,” he offered, trying to focus on Jake and Michael's faces to replace the image of Chloe's mangled wrists in his mind. “I'm sorry, Jake. You used to be the closest to her.” Jake winced and Jeremy realized too late that might have been insensitive to say.

“Yeah. I can't imagine how Brooke's feeling,” Jake replied slowly. It was silent for a few seconds, the rain coming down outside at a steady pace, before Michael spoke up from the other side of the jock.

“You're allowed to cry, Jake,” he said, expression focused. Jeremy was shocked, but his best friend continued before he could interrupt. “I can see you, you know. You're trying to keep it together, maybe ‘cause you're the big macho athlete, but your closest person and your girlfriend-turned-friend of a few years are gone within the same two days.” He paused to let that sink in.

“Michael,” Jeremy said finally, though he couldn't come up with an argument. He just looked at Jake worriedly. The jock was staring at Michael, stunned. His eyes were glistening.

“You're allowed to cry,” Michael repeated gently. That seemed to do it. Tears ran down Jake's face, and his expression became tight. He turned quickly, placing a hand over his mouth to sob into it. Jeremy watched, frozen in place, as Jake Dillinger broke down into a red-faced, weeping mess. Even now, as he cried, he tried not to draw attention to himself. Jake was hunched over more than Jeremy had ever seen in, like he had collapsed in on himself. With a jolt, Jeremy realized he should try to help the crying teen, who was glancing around with a hazy gaze.

They both reached for the napkins on the counter. Jeremy was faster, though, and he brought the napkins closer to Jake's hand for him to grab one before sliding the entire pack closer to the jock. Michael leaned against the counter, looking grim, and Jeremy decided it was okay to rub Jake's back when the boy didn't offer any refusal. Jeremy looked up at his best friend, and hoped they would be able to walk out of this cabin unscathed.

-  
-  
-

_Initiating data retrieval procedure._

_Data corrupted._

_Data retrieval procedure complete._

_Loading . . ._

“You know you were out of line, right?” they said once they were in Chloe's room. They’d had to wait until they were sure everyone downstairs was asleep, so it was a wonder Chloe was even awake. She glanced up at them from her spot on the bed, then scoffed rudely and looked away.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” she hissed, leaning against the wall. She had found a candle somewhere and had it lit up, illuminating the space in a dim, orange glow. If not for the current circumstances, it would have been relaxing.

“If you didn't want anyone to come, why didn't you lock it?” They paused for a moment to let that sink in before sitting down on the edge of the bed. They waited, and Chloe's frown twitched. She wasn't sure whether she enjoyed the company or not. Finally, she cracked.

“I feel bad about attacking all of you. I just don't see the point in doing what we're doing when one of us is the murderer.”

“Who do you think it is?”

She eyed them warily. They offered a small smile, awkward, but kind. After a moment, she made up her mind and shook her head. Chloe trusted them.

“I don't know. Not you. Definitely not me.”

“I believe you,” they hummed, letting their smile drop and pulling themselves further onto the bed.

“I miss him.”

“I know. But you can't just flip out like that, okay?”

“Whatever. I was right.”

“No, you were stubborn. We're not detectives. We're just kids, and no one knows what to do in this situation.”

Chloe looked at them, glaring. She was cold again. Did they come here to berate her? They were frowning in disapproval.

“Someone here broke his fucking neck and left him there for all of us to see. There's a total sicko in this cabin and everyone's just crying on each other like the murderer isn't a part of this group. It's fucked up.”

“We can't be tearing each other apart, Chloe,” they said, voice soft and vulnerable. “We're all scared. I know you are, too. That's why you're trying to put an end to this so quickly.”

“If I don't, who will?” she insisted, though she became less tense. They reached out slowly, and she watched as they took her hand in theirs. “I'm at a loss. You can't tell anyone I said any of this.”

“What happens in this room stays in this room,” they agreed without a beat, looking down at their entwined hands. They peered up at her through their eyelashes and Chloe looked up to meet their gaze, face only lit up by the candle still flickering on the bedside table. She seemed to get the message. She breathed for a second before slowly moving forward, and they tilted their head as she closed the gap between them.

Chloe kissed me slowly, testing the feeling. A proud glow warmed their chest and it felt amazing. Having this much power over someone was the best high they'd ever been on. They brought their hand up to Chloe's face, appealing to her comfort. She put her hand over theirs, then let go of both hands to wrap around their shoulders and pull them down. They let her, catching themselves from falling onto the girl by leaning on their forearms.

Their hands twitched and Chloe noticed, humming softly. They masked the movement by brushing hair out of her face, and she reached down to tug at their shirt. She looked pleased as they took it off before returning to her lips.

This girl was always very perceptive, they thought. Chloe was so used to taking control of a situation and moving past it while keeping herself safe from whatever consequences there might be. Although, she only really did that because they let her. It was so fun to watch her get worked up downstairs and have everyone else go against her. She's never faced that before. They guessed that's what they were relying on. They pulled away and moved her hands above her head, holding them there together. She eyed their face, not resisting at all.

Chloe was giving them full consent to show she trusted them, and they appreciated that completely. They grinned happily and grabbed their shirt from the bed next to her, kissing her again as they moved her hands down to pin them palm-up beneath their knees and balled up the shirt with one hand.

The air shifted slightly as they raised it, still beaming, and her eyes went wide as their face fell into one of serenity. Before she could do anything, they quickly covered her mouth and nose with the shirt. She screamed into it, muffled, before they used their other hand to grip her neck. Just like with Rich, they squeezed the points at the sides and cut off her circulation. Chloe was trying to claw at their clothed knees, unable to pull her hands from under their weight as they rocked back onto them. Her pretty eyes looked dark and betrayed and completely terrified. Pain struck through her head, making her eyes water.

Soon, her struggling ceased, and her eyes fluttered shut. The killer stayed there for another few minutes, making sure she was really unconscious, then moved off the bed.

_Initiating data transfer procedure._

_Insufficient energy. Data transfer corrupted._

_Shutting down . . ._

Her suitcase was only packed with her clothes, and they found her pocket knife in one of the inside pockets. There was also a pack of tissues they grabbed, using some of them to hold the knife. They stood over her at the side of the bed, adjusting their grip over her neck again. Her forearms were pale and smooth, facing the ceiling. They started dragging the blade over her skin, the sharp edge glittering in the light from the candle flame.

With more pressure, the blade broke skin, and they started to carve. They made deep gashes from her wrist almost down to her elbow, and blood was flowing and flowing and flowing. They took their time, feeling the pull of her muscles give way to the knife, and Chloe's hands twitched as they started on her other arm as well. Blood had never been appealing to them before, but the candlelight made it so much prettier. They watched Chloe Valentine bleed out, red seeping into the mattress below her arms, fingers still twitching like she was trying to claw back to consciousness. They finished with a slow and deep slash into her left arm, satisfied.

They let the pocket knife slide out of its tissues so the handle was in Chloe's right hand. With some positioning with the tissues, it looked like she had used it. They left just briefly, coming back to clean her neck and lips with a cool cloth. She didn't even bruise. She was always a fighter. They slipped their shirt back on and paused at the doorway, looking at her one last time. She was still beautiful, wasn't she? At least, they thought so. They closed the door and flushed the tissues away, heading back downstairs to catch a few hours of sleep.

_Data retrieval complete._

-  
-  
-

Eventually, the girls had noticed Jake's distress. The other boys helped Jake off the stool and Christine stood to let him sit next to Brooke. The two immediately clung to each other for comfort, all tears and sniffles and desperate hands. Jeremy thought it was good that the people closest to Chloe got to mourn her together. In the meantime, the rest of them were clearing up the mess from breakfast. No one had much of an appetite anymore, and the cereal went to waste. Jeremy, Michael, Christine, and Jenna sat around the kitchen island, giving Brooke and Jake their privacy. It was silent for a short while before Christine spoke up.

“I don't know where to go from here,” she started carefully, eyeing the counter before looking up to meet everyone's eyes. Jeremy was almost taken aback by the intense fire in her own. “But we need to act fast. Our friends are suffering. Someone died last night, and the night before that. Who knows if one of us will be gone by tonight, too?”

“Don't talk like that,” Michael said immediately. He ran a hand through his hair. “As long as we stay together and-and help each other, and don't let people run off to deal with their problems themselves, we should be fine. We have to.”

“We do need to act, but what is there to do? The rain is going on and off, the flooding outside is still hell. I can barely see the van anymore and I can't find any signal. My phone's at ten percent and everyone else's are dead.” Jenna sighed after speaking, arms crossed. Christine shook her head, giving no other response.

“I think we should just—We should go by what Michael just said,” Jeremy offered. “Stay together. Stay safe. At least until we figure out who killed Rich. Right now, I'm doubting that Chloe did it.”

“What makes you say that?” Jenna asked, leaning forward in interest. The others looked at Jeremy as well, and his throat felt dry.

“She, um—y'know, like, she was the one to get the most worked up about it. I mean, we were all pretty affected, we still are, but Chloe went out of her way to point fingers and even… yeah. She even killed herself over it, so.” Saying it aloud, he was more sure of himself. The SQUIP had to be right.

“She could've killed herself because she did it and she realized she wouldn't be able to put the blame on someone else,” Michael offered. “I'm not arguing, you sound right, but there are so many possibilities here.”

“Yeah, no, yeah, I understand,” Jeremy said meekly, sinking into himself.

“I don't think Chloe did it, but I do think her killing herself did much more harm than good,” Christine admitted. Jenna's eyes snapped over to her.

“What do you mean?” the teen asked, looking a bit more tense. Jeremy noticed this, but Christine didn't seem to.

“She died all alone, after an argument with her friends. She never even got the chance to figure out who killed Rich, if it wasn't her. And Brooke mentioned Chloe might have his phone password, too, so she couldn't help us.” Jenna uncrossed her arms to plant her hands on the counter.

“You think she shouldn't have killed herself just because she didn't have a chance to help us?” Jenna asked incredulously. Michael was already in action, standing up and getting ready to intervene. Christine went wide-eyed and tried to defend herself.

“No, no, no, that's not what I meant,” she said quickly, waving her hands in front of her. Jenna started to interrupt, but Christine was quick to explain. “Of course I think she shouldn't have committed suicide! Not just because of ways she could've been useful, okay? I was just saying I wish she stayed with us. I didn't mean she was only good for this investigation.” Some silence passed.

“Jenna, you know what she was trying to say,” Michael said softly, hands up in a peaceful gesture. He held eye contact with the girl for a few moments, with Jeremy looking between them. Finally, Jenna caved.

“Whatever,” she spat, looking aggravated. She slid off her stool and turned to promptly walk away, eyes set on Brooke. Christine watched her leave, then sighed and held her head in her hands. Michael looked like he wanted to go after Jenna, but stayed and patted Christine's shoulder.

“She's just on edge. Let her talk to Brooke and Jake, okay?” He had this great way of making his voice really calm. That voice had helped Jeremy a lot, and he was relieved to see how much it seemed to help Christine. Jeremy reached over and Christine put her hand in his, squeezing gently before letting go. Michael removed his hand, too, and took a seat again. “Anyways. I don't think we should focus too much on this. I don't feel like foul play is involved.”

“Is that your gut instinct?” Jeremy asked curiously, a bit on edge from the previous confrontation. His friend didn't seem to dwell on it, but he nodded, so Jeremy took the words to heart. “Alright. Any new ideas for Rich's password?”

The other two gratefully took the subject change and Michael withdrew Rich's phone from his pocket, as well as the pen and paper with the previous attempts. They started guessing again, only trying a code if it seemed to have some sort of meaning. They tried everyone's birthdays Christine had memorized, Rich's locker combination Jeremy remembered from the day of the school play, and other dates Michael recalled from things he and Rich talked about sometimes. It was a total bust, and they were all worried about the phone dying, so they decided to turn it off and take another break.

When they returned to the living room with snacks to share with everyone, Brooke, Jake, and Jenna were in a big heap on one of the loveseats. They didn't seem to be doing much besides having some light conversation. They gave waves to the three as they entered, but didn't break their half hearted chatter.

“I haven't experienced much flooding, but it usually doesn't bother me,” Jake continued, holding Brooke's hand. It looked like it was meant for comfort rather than anything else.

“That's because you're tall, so every flood only reaches your knees,” Brooke joked quietly, though her smile didn't reach her eyes. Her voice was tired and almost raspy from the screaming and crying she'd done. Jeremy wanted to go up and hug her, but he felt like that would make her cry even more. He, Christine, and Michael went to sit on the other loveseat as Jenna laughed, a stark contrast from her defensive demeanor earlier.

“Plus, you're a swimmer,” Christine piped in, always one to easily slip into a conversation. She gave out the snacks and the room was filled with the sound of packages being torn open. “If I could swim like you, I would be completely jacked. I'd do it every day.”

“But you don't, ‘cause you're short,” Jenna said meekly. The girls looked at each other for a moment, having a silent conversation. Then they both smiled and looked away, and Jeremy figured that argument was over with.

The conversation was pleasant, and lasted for a while. With no electricity and no phone service, there really was nothing to do but talk and get to know each other even more than they did now. Jeremy learned that Jenna used to be in choir, but she was too shy to sing for them just then. He also learned that Brooke used to skip school to go to the dog park throughout middle school and freshman year, which was fun. By the time they got onto the topic of school again, it was starting to get dark out. Michael busied himself with lighting the candles again.

“What classes do you guys think you'll take senior year?” Christine asked, laughing softly when the others groaned in response.

“That's the most boring question, Christine,” Jeremy teased, nudging her gently. Brooke shoved a whole chip into her mouth on the other seat.

“But it's easy! Come on, you've thought about it, right? You kinda had to, for registration and all.” She encouraged them to speak up. Jenna was the first to volunteer.

“I might go into choir again,” she said, almost shyly. Brooke made an “ooh” sound, and Jenna snorted with laughter. “Shut up! It's only because I have a few more blocks free, and the teacher talked to me in the hall about it.”

“I think you should do it, definitely.” Michael was grinning as he nudged the last candle closer to the middle of the table by the wall, then sat down again. “Remember when I heard you singing in the girl's bathroom?”

“Why were you in the girl's bathroom?” Brooke laughed, a hand on her stomach.

“I wasn't being weird, I was smoking!” Michael snickered. Jake chuckled, eyes glittering in the candlelight.

“In the girl's bathroom?” The jock raised a brow, and the other laughed. Michael offered no explanation, just laughed along. When that died down, they continued talking and eating.

“I dunno about classes,” Brooke started, staring at the ceiling in thought, “but I really want to join a club or something. Like, a traveling club or a book club.”

“You should make it yourself, Brooke,” Jeremy encouraged, genuinely interested. The girl looked absolutely pleased. “I'd probably check out a book club. I don't think we have an official thing like that at school.”

“I'd join,” Jake offered, raising the hand that wasn't still holding Brooke's. He then lowered it to grab some chips out of Brooke's bag. She laughed softly and looked up at him.

“I didn't know you could read,” she teased, drawing another bout of laughter from the group. Jake's was probably the most noticeable, even through a mouth with chips.

“What about you, Jake? Besides book club,” Christine hummed, bringing her legs up to sit cross-cross on the couch. The jock thought for a moment, swallowing his food down before shrugging.

“I dunno. I guess I'd really dig learning about psychology and stuff. I already took human physiology as a junior, so I have a lot of slots open for cooler electives. Like home ec or something.” He said this nonchalantly, but Michael seemed really impressed.

“That's cool. I can relate, I tried to get all the boring required shit early on in highschool, so I can just cruise my senior year.” Jeremy looked at his friend with a small smile.

“You cruise every year.” Michael snorted and waved a hand, holding a Ritz cracker.

“Doesn't count. If you're not doing fun stuff your senior year, you wasted your earlier highschool days for instant gratification. How ‘bout you, Christine?” He looked at his friend.

“Drama,” she stated immediately. She shook her head briefly, looking around like she’d been spacing out really hard. “Wait, what?” Everyone laughed briefly.

“Something else, silly! Don't get so caught up in your own head,” Brooke said, flicking a hand towards her. Christine hummed as she thought.

“I dunno. I think I'd also really like choir,” she confessed, earning a “Whoo!” from Jenna. “Maybe a better sex ed class, too, one that doesn't only focus on dry condoms the whole semester. Jeremy, your turn.”

“Uh.” He really was indecisive when it came to his own classes. He looked around the room. “All of them, I think. Also, a GSA club. I feel like that'd be cool.” Everyone perked up and make appreciative noises in response. Even then, the room felt heavier somehow. Jeremy wasn't sure if he meant to leave the unspoken opinion in the air: Rich would've loved that.

“I think it's getting late,” Christine said after another long while of mindless chatter. The snacks were finished and she and Jenna had gathered the trash. It was neat that everyone in their friend group grew to hold engaging conversations. “Maybe we should head to sleep soon.”

On cue, Michael yawned. Brooke followed suit, then went on to whine about yawns being contagious, making the boy laugh and fake another yawn. The mess was taken care of and everyone agreed it was time to go to bed, so they all got up from their spots to arrange their sleeping areas again. Jeremy ended up being sandwiched by Christine and Michael on the floor, with Jenna and Brooke on the other side of Christine. Jake was next to Michael after some prompting, with the whole group deciding everyone should have the equal opportunity to cuddle. Jeremy felt like the real reason was to make sure everyone was able to reach for help and comfort if they needed it.

With some vigorous pillow fanning, the candles on the coffee table went out, and the group had their first good sleep since the night Rich went out in the storm. Jeremy just wished that positive atmosphere had lasted longer. When he woke up, one of his friends was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip in peace :(


	3. MANIPULATION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter esketit

_Initiating data retrieval procedure._

_Data corrupted._

_Data retrieval procedure complete._

_Loading . . ._

Christine silently shook their shoulder until they woke, opening their eyes to see her standing above them.

“We have to talk,” she said solemnly, the most solemn they'd ever seen her. Wordlessly, they got up, making sure not to hit anyone else in the group. A plan raced through their mind at great speeds, but they kept their face free of expression.

She slowly led them upstairs, far out of the others’ earshot. It was raining again, each droplet hitting the glass door just as they had when they were here with Rich. They took a glance towards the door of the room he was in, and Christine noticed. She stopped at the stair banister a few feet from the actual steps, and looked straight at them, straight into their eyes.

“I know you did it.”

“You're right.”

“Why?”

They explained what they had told their accomplice, trying to explain how they'd only done what they needed to do. She just looked disappointed, horrified, depressed.

“You have to tell them. Our friends, the cops, everyone.”

“I can't do that.”

“You _killed_ Rich. You drove Chloe to suicide. Everyone downstairs has barely slept or eaten since. You know this was all your fault.”

“I can't tell them. I wish I could take it all back, I really could, but I can't.” Christine's face fell. This route had more of an effect, they noted. They took a small step forward, not enough to be worrying, but enough to be noticed. They changed their tone into a desperate plea. “I'm so, so sorry. I-I didn't mean to put you all through this, okay? I'm so fucking sick of myself. I hate that I caused this, and I know I'm completely to blame, I know I should tell them, I really want to. But I can't. I'm so scared, Christine.”

The small girl started to pity them. Her lips were twitched down, brows slightly furrowed, shoulders kind of slumped. She looked exhausted.

She also looked like she wanted to trust them.

“Please believe me,” they whimpered out, voice broken and small as they started tearing up. “I didn't mean to make all of this happen. I wanted to turn myself in, I wanted to tell all of you and beg you not to kick me into the flood, but I knew if I confessed, none of you would feel safe. I didn't want that. I didn't want you all afraid of me, at least not until I can actually be arrested for it and taken far, far away from you. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking, I-I shouldn't have hurt Rich and I don't want to hurt all of you. Rich was so special to me, and-and-and I think I'm crazy. I'm scared. Not only of myself, but for all of you guys. I'm scared.”

As if embarrassed, they turned their head down as they let themself cry, morphing their expression into one of guilt and fear and innocence.

Christine breathed out their name, hesitating for just a moment before closing the space between them and wrapping her arms around the other teen. They hugged her back loosely, thinking she might get alarmed if they held too tight. “I'm so sorry. I can't help you.”

“I-I know,” they breathed shakily, starting to sway gently. “What I did, it was—God. It was unforgivable. I know that. I know I can't come back from that.” Christine rubbed their back and let them sway her back and forth. “I'm so sorry, Christine. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could start over. I genuinely wish I didn't have to do this to you.”

 Fear struck Christine and she tensed up greatly, but they didn't give her time to do anything else.

Using their momentum, they brought Christine's head down onto the stair banister. Their face was blank and cold as she gasped, skull bouncing right off the wood. She didn't even get to put up a fight. They forced their hand over her mouth and nose as they brought her up, only to bash her temple right against the wood again. This time, she became unconscious. The rain acted as a cover for the full thumps of her head against wood, barely audible through the weather. One more harsh slam, and they could be sure she wasn't waking up. There was even some blood already sleeping into her thick hair.

_Initiating data transfer procedure._

_Insufficient energy. Data transfer corrupted._

_Shutting down . . ._

The bathrooms upstairs still had running water. Carefully, they wiped down where they'd placed their fingers and palm over her face and kept the trash in their back pocket. It took a bit to maneuver her limp body down the stairs without making much noise, but they managed. The basement was near the staircase, so they didn't even have to sneak past the group. It was flooded to hell with dirty water, right below the window, just a few feet high. More water, a small stream really, was pouring in through the cracked-open window. They were able to hold Christine's body up against the wall to look at her one last time. They wondered whether she was dead, or just unconscious. Whatever. They pushed her down the few steps back-first, so she wouldn't float. She didn't even splash much. That would be fun to find.

They closed the door and emptied their back pocket to wipe down the knob. They went back upstairs to dispose it, then made their way back to the group and laid right back where they were. It took a moment, but they soon noticed their accomplice was awake. They were staring at them, then the empty space in the group, then back again. They wondered how long they had been watching. They realized they really didn't care. Instead of defending themselves, they lifted their left index finger to their lips, their accomplice’s wide eyes following.

“ _Shh_.” A smile danced on their lips.

They turned away from them and settled down for more sleep.

_Data retrieval complete._

-  
-  
-

“Christine?” Jeremy called, looking into each of the rooms. He even glanced in Chloe's room when it was the last one, making sure to avert his eyes from her covered body as he checked for Christine's presence. He closed the door once registering that it was the same as they'd left it. A heavy feeling was in his gut, weighing him down. He could hear Michael and Jenna calling for her out on the balcony, finding the umbrellas in the entryway. Jake and Brooke were searching the first floor and looking out the windows for any sign that she'd left.

They'd been searching for a good ten minutes now, but there just weren't many places to check. The rain was pouring steadily, the flood hadn't gone down, and Christine's phone was dead in her room, where she'd put it after it ran out of battery. She hadn't been with them this morning when they woke up. At first, they thought she was fixing breakfast, but there was no indication that she'd been in the kitchen. Jeremy looked over his shoulder when the balcony door slid open, with Jenna coming in and Michael shaking the umbrella off before sliding the door shut.

“I don't get it,” Michael said, irritated and worried. Jenna was hugging herself, looking around the hall as if hoping Christine would just show up. “There's no way she could've left. If she did, she would have her phone with her.”

“I checked every inch of every room, like, twice,” Jeremy sighed, heading towards the stairs. Michael and Jenna following.

“She wouldn't mess around like this,” Jenna muttered, almost to herself as they walked back to the main floor. “What happened to her?”

None of them wanted to say it, but the possible answers hung in the air. Either she was the murderer and ran, or she was the victim of some fucked up crime that happened right under their noses. Jeremy knew the latter was far more possible. He bit his tongue when they made it down the stairs, seeing Brooke crack open the front door to look where the windows couldn't. With pinched eyebrows, she closed the door again and turned to look at them. Jake came out of the kitchen, frowning deeply as he maneuvered his crutches to get himself to a barstool.

_B_ _ e m _ n t ._

Jeremy nearly jumped. He looked back at Michael, who looked too deep in thought to acknowledge Jeremy's gaze. Okay. B__em_nt. He looked around carefully, his gaze landing on a door right next to the stairs. It took another brief moment, but when the realization hit, a cold wave of dread hit him.

“ _Basement_.” He was so quiet, no one heard him. He spoke up, hand twitching. “Have you guys checked the basement?”

“Huh? I was the first to check, but it's all flooded,” Jenna stated. Before she was even finished, Jeremy's shaking hand was on the doorknob. He twisted it and opened the door, looking down at the brown water flooding the room. More was spilling in through the tiny open window.

_H  e    r  e ._

“Christine?” he asked into the space, the rushing water louder than his call. She was here. She had to be here. That meant she was… “Christine! Fuck, _fuck_!”

Jeremy started down the few steps, his friends calling out protests behind him. He didn't care about the gross water. He dropped to his knees once he was at the bottom, leaving the water around his chest. He felt around briefly, having to inch forward just a bit before feeling cloth at his fingertips. He felt around and grabbed the arm, pulling it up. Christine was unnaturally pale and completely limp, her eyes closed and her mouth open slightly as foam escaped. There was a splash behind him as Jeremy hooked an arm around her waist and lifted her upper body from the water, and Michael appeared to help carry Christine's legs. Brooke was screaming Christine's name from behind them, and they set her down on the floor as quickly as they could.

“Move, move!” Jake said urgently, letting his crutches clatter behind him as he lowered himself to his knees. Jeremy stayed by Christine's side, still clutching her arm as Michael told Jenna and Brooke to give Jake space. The jock had his hands overlapped on Christine's chest, pumping down in a steady rhythm. When he felt no breath, he pinched Christine's nose and gave her air, then returned his hands to her chest and started over again. He did this once more, twice more, thrice more, getting increasingly desperate but managing to keep the steady rhythm. “C'mon, c'mon, Chris, breathe for me. Christine, _breathe_.”

“Jake,” Jenna said quietly. He was crying now, teeth gritted as he bent down to check her breathing again. Jeremy's shaking hands trailed down Christine's arm, to her wrist. He pressed two fingers to the side. There was nothing but coldness. “ _Jake_.”

“Shut up,” he choked out, following mouth-to-mouth procedure again. He gently patted Christine's cheeks, and when there was no response, he started back on her chest. Brooke cried into Michael's shoulder, and the teen had his arm wrapped around her as he watched Jake. Tears were streaming down his face as well. Jeremy's heart was in overdrive and his breath was ragged and quick. He kept moving his two fingers across Christine's wrist, searching. He knew it was a lost cause. “Jeremy, her neck, try her neck.”

Jake felt for her breath, mouth-to-mouth, started chest compressions, repeat. Jeremy scrambled to place his hand on the side of Christine's neck, pausing at different spots below her jaw. Jenna turned away from them, hand over her mouth. Jeremy had to find it, he had to find a pulse, he had to make sure she was still alive, that they had a chance, that she would be okay, that Christine would be okay, s _he had to be, he—_

“She's gone,” Michael croaked out, sounding almost as broken as Jeremy felt. Something in him shattered, some vital piece of his being that was keeping him together, that was keeping him hoping they could make it out. Jeremy started sobbing, grabbing Christine's shoulder, shaking her slightly. His hand moved to take hers, clutching it to his chest, as if Christine's heart would start beating if she felt his. Jake was still pushing, still letting encouragement fall from his lips, still willing her to give a response. Brooke wailed, and Michael handed her off to Jenna. “Jake, stop. She's dead.”

“No, she isn't, give it more time, let her breathe,” he insisted, blinking through the tears dripping from his eyes. They fell onto his hands, and he stopped the compressions to feel for her breathing again. Michael moved over and grabbed Jake's shoulder. He shrugged Michael off, but the boy just grabbed him again. He grabbed his other shoulder as well.

“Look at me. Look at me.” Jeremy couldn't remember a time he heard Michael sound so defeated. So scared. Jake started to push Michael away, but he was persistent. “Christine is gone, Jake. She's gone.”

They stared for a moment, Jake searching Michael's eyes for something. His expression was so vulnerable, so disbelieving. Michael crumpled first, bringing his hands to his mouth instead as sobs racked his body. Jake pulled him into his arms, and the two held each other, a pair of deep sobs and cries. Jenna had her arms around Brooke, head turned away from Christine as they cried. Jeremy stayed there, by his friend's side, her limp hand held to his chest as he heaved with his own desperate sobs. He was cold, and she was colder. He wished Christine could feel his heartbeat.

It was raining heavily even hours later, when everyone had tried to gather themselves. Michael had busied himself with going through the flooded basement and forcing the window to shut all the way to prevent the water from coming into the cabin. Afterwards, he and Jeremy brought Christine to her room, making sure to bring a blanket up from their sleeping area to cover her with. They changed out of their soiled clothes before coming back down, not even really having the energy to talk to each other. Brooke was in a ball on the end of the loveseat, crying to herself. Jake was at the other end, and Jenna was sitting on the floor against the coffee table with her legs to her chest. Michael and Jeremy took the other couch. A while passed before anyone was able to form words.

“So who did it?” Michael asked blankly, looking at the three. He even gave an odd glance at Jeremy, which stung. No one answered, and he shook his head. “Christine was the most determined to make us eat. To make us sleep. To make us know we aren't alone. Who killed her?” Silence. He snapped, voice loud and dark, “Who the fuck did it?”

“I really can't trust any of you,” Brooke whimpered, curling into herself more. “I can't trust any of you.”

“It was while we were all sleeping, I was sleeping,” Jenna whispered, putting her head in her hands.

“Well one of us fucking wasn't,” Michael said, gripping the cushion he was on. “One of us wasn't sleeping, one of us was drowning Christine in a fucking basement while the rest of us were incapable of knowing anything that was going on.” His voice just got louder, and Brooke was wailing loudly into her hands.

“Michael, you're freaking everyone out,” Jeremy said shakily, trying to keep his tone at a level volume. It was hard when he felt completely torn apart, like each of his friends’ deaths took a chunk out of him. “Stop, just stop. We don't need this right now.” Michael looked like he wanted to argue, but he glanced around the room at his friends. Everyone looked exhausted and terrified and grief-stricken. He shut up and crossed his arms instead.

“What do we do?” Jake asked after a beat of silence. Jeremy thought to himself, searching for anything to say in response. What would Christine say?

“We don't pick fights. We rationalize, and we try to figure this out without tearing everyone into pieces. That's the safest way to find a killer, by not provoking them.” He managed to keep his voice only a little shaky. His friends looked unsure.

“Let's look at what we have,” Michael said, patting himself down before grabbing the notes out of his hoodie pocket. Miraculously, they and the phone weren't wet. “We go around the circle and state our relationship towards everyone who died. Our honest relationship with them. We watch out for any signs of fidgeting or shifty eyes, whatever might look suspicious as we speak. Then we decide who our prime suspect is. And what to do with the knowledge that they're the most suspicious.”

“Anonymously,” Brooke said. Everyone nodded slowly. “We can write names and then shuffle them and then read them together.”

“And no one is allowed to accuse other people,” Jenna added. “No trying to appeal to anyone, either.”

“So we're all voting for a killer. Okay.” Jake looked at all of them slowly, like he was already trying to gauge everyone's feelings.

“Okay,” Jeremy breathed, nervous. “Everyone has to participate. Pour your heart and soul into this, because this might save you from suspicion. Crying is null in regards to how believable you are, it's all in the words. Who's going first?” No one volunteered. “Okay. Me, then. Again.”

Jeremy took a deep breath, letting silence wash over all of them. Information whizzed through his brain, filling his mind completely. Who was Rich closest to? Who did he like the least out of all of them? What did he say to everyone before they never saw him again? What did everyone say in response? His gaze flitted from friend to friend, and he had no doubt the SQUIP was trying to feed him things that would help in figuring out the murderer. He cleared his throat. Right now, though, he had to focus on proving himself innocent.

“I was awake almost the whole night Rich died. The storm was all I could hear when I woke up from a two-hour sleep, starting from midnight. The power was off, and I got up to take care of a headache I had. Michael woke up and asked what I was doing at two in the morning. I explained, left the room, and found the cloth tied to the banister. I looked over the railing and saw Rich hanging there.” His friends were completely still. He hadn't told them these details. Jeremy rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Michael, who nodded for him to continue.

“I screamed, you guys came out, I ran down to get the knife and cut him down. During the interrogations later, I was supposed to be there to listen in, but Jake mentioned Rich wanting to set things right with me, and, uh, I lost it. Michael let me go to our room to grieve.” He explained how close he and Rich were, how they'd found they were so similar and were able to bond well without the SQUIP forcing them to be different people entirely. It was quiet once he finished, but Michael cleared his throat to get his confession over with.

“Rich was… a lot. He was. And me and him never really hung out without another person with us besides the few times we were first to show up in the cafeteria, or the times he wanted to wait at my house for a bit before going home, y'know? We did talk over text a lot, though, just sending each other stuff and having the occasional deep conversation if we didn't know who else to talk to. He really cared for all of us, that was my favorite thing about him. He was so genuine.” A beat of silence passed, and Michael pursed his lips briefly.

“I know everyone's thinking about what Chloe said about me. I can't account for myself during the time Jeremy was asleep, but I can account for when Jeremy woke me up. I could barely fall back asleep since the phone was so bright, but I must've dozed off for, like, thirty seconds until he found Rich. Me and… uh, Christine, we were the first ones to go onto the stairs to catch Rich when he fell. His neck is what freaked me out the most. The fact that one of us did that. I got a bad feeling earlier, but I didn't act on it until it was too late and I knew there was some kind of foul play. I want to make it up to our friends by solving whatever the fuck this is. Okay, I'm done.” Brooke was next.

“Okay. I loved—I love Rich. He was almost as close to me as Chloe was. I love Chloe, too, but... Since the day I met Rich, he always looked so lonely. Like, I could tell. He think no one was looking, and he would just be this really solemn, guilty guy. At first I thought it was weird, but getting closer to him, I just wanted to comfort him. To make sure he wasn't alone or anything. I tried so hard to get close to him, and he did open up about himself a few times, but it was like he was picking and choosing the details. So after the SQUIP thing, he was an entirely different person. He was so happy to have us say we had fun with him, and he went out of his way to make us laugh, and he was the most energetic out of all of us, even when he was having the bad days.” A pause.

"But he was still… lonely. And I wanted to change that, so I decided to befriend this new person as well.” She was staring nowhere, just letting the words fall from her lips. Like she was reminiscing. Her expression turned grim. “I saw…” She faltered, and her eyes snapped back to the present. Brooke diverted her gaze to the floor. “I-I saw Rich hanging and I thought I was dreaming. I wish I was. I wish I could've… I'm sorry.” Tears were falling freely from her eyes, and she was shaking with the effort not to cry. Jeremy stood up slowly, busying himself with grabbing the napkins on the kitchen bar counter. He gave the package to Brooke, then sat down again.

“My turn,” Jake said, staring at Brooke with a sad gaze. He picked at the end of his shirt with his left hand, a thread coming undone. He was deep in thought and tapped his thigh with the other hand as he looked around at everyone. “I remember going to sleep, just thinking about how Rich would be there in the morning and show me whatever pictures he got of the storm he really wanted to see. He never got to, and that's… yeah. I don't think I've ever been as close to anyone as I had been with Rich. Not even my parents, and they were always there for me. And when they weren't, he was the first one I went to. And I don't know if it was the computer telling him what to say, but he was the most comforting and the most understanding, right?

“I mean, yeah, Halloween really drove us apart, but he would always try to make it up to me. Even so long afterwards, I'd tell him I forgive him, we're all cool, I'm just glad he understood how that affected me and everyone else, and he kept insisting he'd make it up to me. He always went that extra mile to let us know he loved us. I just wish I did the same for him.” Jake leaned back into the couch to end his talk. Jenna glanced around all of them.

“Rich and I… okay, honestly, we didn't get along as well as Chloe and Brooke. We cared for each other a lot, I would do anything for him, but we just never had that really deep connection, y'know? And I really, really hate myself for not trying harder to be a close friend. I hope he knew I wanted to be one. I wish I could just tell him that. Um, I sat up when Jeremy screamed at the exact same time Christine did. We looked at each other and ran out. I was so scared, I didn't even do anything. I just went and puked. I thought I could try to help by offering some possible passwords for his phone, but I'm not even sure that was helpful.

“I just hope Rich and Chloe and Christine know I really, really appreciated everything they did for me. Even if it did get a little rocky between all of us a few times.” She finished awkwardly, and everyone looked at each other with wary gazes. Michael's mouth was in a thin line and he shook his head, pulling blank note paper and a pen from his hoodie pocket.

“Alright. Pass these around.” He tore a piece of paper into five pieces and they all came a bit closer together so he and Jeremy could pass them out. Michael clicked the pen he had and hid it from everyone as he wrote down a name and placed the paper facedown in his palm, holding his hand out. He gave Jeremy the pen next, and the teen stared at his paper, unsure. He trusted Michael the most out of everyone else, so he was out of the question. Brooke and Rich were known to be close friends, so he didn't think she could have done it. He scribbled down a name and put his paper facedown on top of Michael's. He passed the pen down next, watching everyone else.

Jake only hesitated for a few seconds before writing a name down and turning his paper in. Brooke took much longer to decide, glancing at everyone once before staring at her paper for a good twenty seconds. She wrote a name and passed down the pen. Jenna was looking between Brooke and Jake. She wrote a name down and set her paper and pen down.

Making sure not to show anybody, including himself, Michael shuffled the papers. Everyone had the sense to look away, nervously waiting for… they didn't know what. It felt like a trial, though, and the tense atmosphere made Jeremy want to get up and leave and hide away. Michael had spent a good amount of time shuffling the names and was looking at the top piece of paper now.

“This isn't damning,” he said slowly. “It's just whoever has the most obvious motive according to all of us. Okay? I'm gonna start reading these off. Murderer, don't get offended if you don't win this vote.” He took a breath and started.

“Brooke.” The blonde tensed up.

“Jenna.” She glanced around the room.

“Me.” Michael seemed unfazed.

“Jenna.” The girl looked alarmed now.

“And Jenna. That's three for Jenna.” She straightened, face contorted into one of disbelief. Michael was frowning, displeased with the vote. “Sorry. I don't agree, but we established the rules.”

“What are you guys… going to do?” Jenna asked, voice careful. Everyone glanced at each other, then fixed their eyes on Jenna. Michael looked at the papers for a second.

“I guess we just keep an eye on you, since you're the one that two of us are most wary of. It's not an actual piece of evidence, okay?”

“Then what was this for?” Brooke said quietly.

“It was just something to look into, Brooke,” Michael explained. “We can't do much. We're not in any place to lock Jenna up somewhere or prove her guilty because three of us think she did it.”

“I didn't,” Jenna stated, looking at Brooke with a strange expression. She looked right back, face desperate, but focused.

“She killed him. I know she did.”

“Brooke, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You hated Rich! And he thought you weren't ever a real part of the group. He was convinced you only liked to gossip about people and you hated that, but you never put in any effort to prove you were more than that.” Everyone had gone still. Brooke was actively trying to accuse Jenna.

“I wouldn't kill him just because I thought he didn't like me!” Jenna defended, voice shrill.

“I didn't think anyone could kill him at all, but they did! It happened! And you're the only one who wasn't Rich’s friend!”

“You're completely crazy. I thought you of all people would defend me. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“The only thing wrong with me is the fact that I didn't tell everyone I thought you killed him in the first place. And when Christine caught on, or-or said something insensitive to get us thinking, you got rid of her, right? That's how you're keeping yourself safe?”

“I'm not agreeing with Brooke, but that's our most solid motive,” Jeremy muttered. Michael snapped his head towards him.

“Jenna wouldn't do anything to hurt anyone. She didn't even want to come,” he protested.

“Jenna, you just admitted to not trying to be a closer friend to Rich,” Jake said slowly. “You liked him the least out of all of us.”

Jenna looked like she realized too late how her words must have come across. Jeremy eyed her surprised expression. She looked genuinely shocked, but Jeremy thought everyone did. He couldn't tell. He leaned back and stared at everyone uncomfortably, choosing to not intervene.

“I didn't do anything! I didn't touch anyone, I'm not a _murderer_!” she spluttered, snapping her head between all of them. “Y-You can't really believe I did it.”

“Even when we just came to the cabin, Rich was making fun of you and you took it to heart. Maybe he meant it, we don't know, but I know you were offended every time he excluded you. You were jealous of him, so you killed him.” Brooke had wide eyes, like she was shocked at what was coming out of her mouth. Jenna looked like she was starting to panic.

“That's enough, Brooke.” Michael shot up, glaring down at her. She shrunk into herself.

“I agree with Brooke and Jeremy,” Jake stated firmly, crossing his arms. Jeremy jolted and looked at him with an incredulous face. He didn't want to be included in this! “You and Jenna obviously voted for other people, so Jeremy is the third vote for her.”

“I-I-I mean, I'm not saying she's the most likely to be the murderer, but I just thought the motive was there!” he stammered out. “I'm not outright accusing anyone!”

“This idea is such a fucking mess,” Michael sneered. Jake looked at him pointedly.

“And whose idea was it?” he asked. The teens stared at each other in irritation, as if they hadn't just been clinging to each other over Christine's death just minutes prior. Jake broke first, ending their eye contact after several tense seconds.

“Okay. Fine. Fuck. Sorry, Jenna, but they're right. You have the most obvious motive.” Michael crossed his arms and looked at her apologetically. Jenna kept looking from one person to another, as if silent pleading for someone to step up for her. No one did.

Jeremy didn't know what to think. Maybe he was wrong and Jenna was just being honest with everyone. Maybe it was Brooke, deciding that Rich wasn't worth being around anymore. Maybe it was Jake, after Rich grew closer to the girls and left him in crutches. Maybe even Michael, who thought Rich never did atone for his bullying. Heavy rain outside did well to disrupt Jeremy's thoughts, and he rubbed his temple.

Whoever it was, Jeremy wondered whether they were proud of themselves.

Somehow, the group was able to calm down and discussed what they should do since Jenna was the prime suspect. Brooke just suggested keeping her in a guarded room, while Jake thought they should just exclude her from the group entirely until the rest of them made cases to prove she was innocent or guilty. Michael didn't agree with either of them, and wanted to have her make her own case. Jeremy didn't have a clue what was going on or what they were actually going to do. Michael wasn't ever able to talk to him alone, and Jeremy didn't know what he was supposed to do besides let the other bicker. Jenna didn't seem up for talking, either. Eventually, they tried to settle on a compromise.

“Jenna can stay in our room, and we'll all just take turns communicating with her one-on-one, with the rest of us waiting outside. She'll have to try appealing to us without anyone else putting their own opinions into it,” Michael clarified. “Agreed?”

They glanced around at each other and nodded. Jenna exhaled slowly when Michael nodded at her. He helped her up from her spot on the floor and the group managed to have a peaceful breakfast of junk food before she went into Michael and Jeremy's room. Michael was really hesitant about having her be lonely for longer than necessary, so he suggested having everyone do their own things on their own little area while the other people went in. All they were meant to do was talk to her, see if they still thought she was a threat. Jeremy went first, and he came in to see Jenna sitting on the bed, briefly reading the back of a bag of chips.

“Hey,” he greeted awkwardly, Jenna looking up to see him. She looked kind of uncomfortable, understandably, but managed a small smile.

“Hey.” She tossed the bag of chips aside, into a pile of snacks on the bedside table. Jeremy stood there for a bit, probably looking like a doofus. Jenna patted the bed and he quickly closed the door behind him and shuffled over to sit on the bed with her.

“Uh, so, what's… How are you doing?” He sat criss-cross, but that seemed weird somehow, so he just stretched his legs out in front of him as he sat back against the headboard with Jenna.

“Fine, I guess. Besides the fact that this entire situation is happening,” she drawled. Right. Jeremy flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. This was the most awkward thing that happened in this place. “But how are you doing, Jeremy?”

“Same, I think.” Jenna gave him a look. “Well, okay, no. I'm a mess. I have no idea what's happening or why or how I'm supposed to help. I don't know. This feels like some weird, crazy, terrible dream.”

“I wish it was.” A beat of silence. It was obvious they didn't quite know how to lead into the conversation they were supposed to be having. Then, “Do you really think I did it? Like, killed all of them?” Jeremy jumped slightly and shook his head.

“No. But I don't know how any of us could do it. I just can't imagine you or Michael or Jake or Brooke doing that type of stuff, but…”

“But one of us did.”

“Yeah. That.”

“I get why you voted for me. I was trying to be as honest as possible, but that just bit me in the ass, huh?” Jenna snorted at herself, trying to lighten the mood. Jeremy offered a small, nervous chuckle. “I just don't get how people would rationalize me killing everyone else, though, even if I didn't care for Rich. Chloe was a complete jerk, but we stood up for each other. Christine and I had this big bond over, like… okay, don't tell anyone else this, but we both went through a huge Hamilton phase. Huge. Chloe and Rich and Jake always teased me about it and I was always bugging them to sign up for the school play with me. I'm honestly glad Christine found out about it when they finally listened.” Jeremy laughed softly, remembering that about Christine.

“Really? You?” he asked. Jenna laughed at herself, a big smile on her face.

“My favorite song was the Maria Reynolds one, and Christine loved to have us sing it together when we hung out. It was fun.” After a moment, she sighed softly. “I'd never hurt Christine. She brought out the best in all of us.”

“I'm sorry,” Jeremy said, mostly because he didn't know what else he could say. He fiddled with the seams in his jeans and Jenna shook her head.

“Don't be. If I just fed everyone bullshit about loving Rich and someone else ended up in here, it wouldn't even make a difference.” Jeremy blinked a few times, curious.

“What do you mean?” he asked, looking at her. Jenna hummed softly and thought for a bit before she spoke.

“Obviously someone is lying, right? Since there has to be a murderer, a mastermind. I think it's a matter of figuring out who's the liar. Brooke, Michael, Jake, you. That's what I need to figure out, because I know I didn't do it.”

“And I need to figure out whether you're the liar, or someone else. Yeah. That's basically what we've been trying to do, I guess. Try to be honest, try to find the one who isn't.”

“Basically. And look where that got us. I'm grounded.”

Jeremy looked at the girl, scanning her expression. She looked stressed, but accepting. It was like she was trying to make the best out of her current situation. He wondered how much of Christine had rubbed off on her.

“If you're lying right now, Jenna, you're really good at it.”

Rain came down on the closed bedroom window, pattering the glass softly. Jeremy looked over to it and wondered how high the flood had gotten.

“Want some chips?” He looked back at Jenna. She was opening a big bag of BBQ chips. Jeremy nodded and grabbed one, and they sat there eating until the bag was empty. He took the trash with him on the way out.

-  
-  
-

_Initiating data retrieval procedure._

_Data corrupted._

_Data retrieval procedure complete._

_Loading . . ._

“Why would you do that? Why would you kill her, she didn't do anything, you know she didn't do anything!”

“Keep it down.”

“Christine didn't deserve whatever you did to her. Whether it was drowning, or-or—”

“I knocked her head on the railing a few times and then left her in the basement.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The killer shrugged and continued reading the label of what they had in hand. Their accomplice was seething.

“I'm surprised you haven't ratted me out yet.”

“Yeah? It's only because I'm in too deep.”

“That's on you.”

“You're a fucking pussy, you know that?” They rolled their eyes at their accomplice, unscrewing the top of the item they were holding. They gave it a sniff. “Killing people just because you think they've found you out. Instead of, you know, taking responsibility for what you did.”

“Murder isn't something people often confess to.” Their voice was smooth and calm compared to their partner's frantic hisses. They screwed the top back on and shook the bottle.

“Christine didn't do anything.”

“She pulled me away from the group to push me into confessing.”

“From what you told me, she just wanted to do the right thing. She gave you the chance to admit it yourself.”

“And I didn't take that chance. Simple. Look, you're in this lie with me. If I get caught and you don't, you know I won't bring you down. All you have to do is keep acting like you don't know shit and you'll get out of this scot-free.”

“That's not what I want. What I want is to keep my friends safe. You got Rich, you got Chloe, then you had to go and take Christine away, too. I thought those two would be the only ones.”

“The problem is that you were okay with that. You're just as fucked up as I am. You're a bystander trying to rationalize why you haven't done the right thing.” Their accomplice had no answer. The murderer flashed a friendly smile, fake and mocking, and held up the bottle of glass cleaner. “Would you drink this if I asked you to?”

“No. Of course not.” Their accomplice glared venomously, fists clenched and shaking. As if they would actually do anything more than vocalize their disagreement.

“Great.” They walked off to their room with the cleaner in hand, effectively ending the conversation.

_Data retrieval complete._

-  
-  
-

Later, everyone had spoken to Jenna throughout the day, Michael taking the longest. He didn't have them admit whether they thought she was the murderer or not. Instead, they all just sat in the living room, with Jenna still upstairs. It was just getting dark, and everyone had eaten something. The rain had stopped for once, but they had no way of making it out of the area and the phones that hadn't died were on their last few minutes of battery life. Everyone was exhausted and ready for an early rest. Jeremy's stomach was rolling and his head was reeling, so he hugged a pillow to himself in an attempt to soothe it. Michael was next to him, still sitting up even as Brooke and Jake were already dozing off in the loveseats. He was trying to figure out some of the passcodes Jenna had guessed during their talk.

“Michael, you need to sleep,” Jeremy insisted quietly, nudging his friend in the arm.

“This last column,” he replied. Jeremy leaned up to see Michael had started another column.

“I don't get why that's so important to you right now,” Jeremy said. “It doesn't look like it could help us.”

“I have a feeling.”

“You keep relying on your instinct and I believe in it, but can't the phone wait? It'll last another night.”

“Why are trying to get me to put this phone down right now?” Michael said suddenly, clicking the phone off once he was locked out. The room went darker without it. Jeremy huffed.

“Because I feel like you've been the most stressed out of all of us, and you can't be up all by yourself.” The taller boy rolled his eyes, fiddling with the phone. “What?”

“I can take care of myself, Jeremy. I'm a big kid, I can decide whether or not it's safe to stay up.”

“What?”

“Jenna said—Whatever. Forget about it.” Jeremy sat up.

“Jenna said what?” No answer. “Michael, what is up with you right now, dude?”

“Nothing is up with me, dude. I just—Okay, I've trusted you for a while, but me and Jenna discussed some possibilities about everyone being… y'know. The murderer. And I just need to take an outside perspective and watch everyone, including you.”

“What did you guys say about me?” he asked. Michael sighed in response. Jeremy was starting to get a bad taste in his mouth.

“Your SQUIP is still on, right?”

“You told her that?”

“No, man! We were just talking, okay? About, like, your SQUIP manipulating you into a school apocalypse even though you've only had it for a few months. And I knew it was on, and I just thought there was a possibility it could be influencing you. I don't think you murdered Rich or anyone else.”

“It sounds like you think I murdered Rich _and_ everyone else.”

“I'm just being reasonable. You're my best friend and I haven't even considered you a suspect. I need to be neutral.” It kind of offended Jeremy, how much Michael was starting to distrust him. Sure, he'd suspected Michael for a few seconds while Chloe went on her own tangent, but that was just a fleeting thing debunked by personal knowledge and facts. Now Michael thought the SQUIP could be getting him to commit homicide?

“That doesn't sound very reasonable to me,” he said, laying back down. Michael was quiet. “Michael, my SQUIP isn’t even functioning enough to go two words without fucking them up. And I would never hurt anyone, especially not Christine.”

“I know,” Michael said, though there was some reluctance in his voice. Jeremy turned on his side, away from his best friend. “Goodnight, Jer. Sorry.”

-  
-  
-

There _had_ to be something in this phone. He knew it. He couldn't shake it. It kept locking him out for longer and longer and the battery was going down at a steady rate, but Michael held faith in this phone being important to them. Jeremy had fallen asleep twenty minutes earlier, and Michael was tempted to follow suit, but this was so important. He kept the first digit of the code that Jeremy had thought was the right number, which was 2, but there were still so many possible combinations. If only Chloe hadn't just stormed off. She was the only one who knew the code, wasn't she? Why would she know it?

Michael suddenly remembered a time when he'd just had his first phone and needed a password for it. Only one person knew his password, and that person had been Jeremy. Not even his parents knew, but that was because the password was kind of embarrassing. The only reason he told Jeremy was because Jeremy's name had been the password, which, looking back on it, was honestly kind of adorable. A feeling of excitement washed over Michael, and he held his breath in anticipation as he clicked the phone on again. The timer counted down, and the keypad popped up. He eyed the 2 key. It had the letters A, B, and C.

He typed out Chloe's name and the phone unlocked.

It unlocked.

It unlocked!

“Holy—” He slapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide, heart beating out of his chest. He figured it out! That was crazy! Okay, okay, okay, he thought to himself. Photos. Photos.

Michael tapped away on Rich's phone, finding the gallery app within seconds. He opened it up, glancing at the phone's battery. It was at 2%. He tapped the most recent picture, which seemed so long ago. It was just the night sky, rain speckled on the lens. Rich had gone out that night. Michael swiped. An almost similar picture. He kept swiping, swiping, only seeing a night sky changing in brightness. Rain, darkness, stars, the moon. Just as he was about to rationalize that the fact that Rich was outside was enough, Michael came across a picture that stood out from the rest. There was a silhouette against the pitch black of the sky. He swiped to see the same silhouette.

He could barely breathe as he continued swiping, slower this time. This was the person. It had to be. Whoever was there with Rich that night, whoever met him on the balcony, whoever was in these photos, they were—Michael stopped. What he assumed was lightning lit up the photo, revealing the peaceful expression of the person in the frame. It was—

“Michael?” He dropped the phone to the floor in his shock. Brooke was looking at him from the loveseat curiously, eyes half-lidded. She glanced from him to the phone on the floor, her face morphing into a shocked expression. “Is—That's Rich's phone, that's—”

“Brooke, we need to go. I need to get Jenna and we need to find a phone signal, okay?” His voice was barely a whisper. Brooke had sat up, a hand over her mouth as she started to tear. “Wake up Jeremy. Go out to the porch as quiet and as quick as possible, I'll be right there.” She hesitated before nodding quickly, and Michael grabbed the phone, cursing as he saw it was on 1% battery. He snatched it up and rushed away upstairs, making his footsteps as quiet as possible.

-  
-  
-

_Searching for host . . ._

_Host connected._

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

“What do you want?”

“He knows it's you, he knows, he got into Rich's phone!”

They shot up, looking at Brooke like she had two heads.

“What?”

“He's going to find Jenna and then come back down, he told me to wake up Jeremy, I don't know what to do—”

“Shut up, shut up. I'm not bringing you down, I told you that.” The killer rubbed the sleep out of their eyes with one hand, then grabbed the crutches that were propped against the loveseat. “Go up there before he comes down. Keep him upstairs.”

“But—”

“Do it. I'll meet you there. Hurry up.” She looked like she wanted to argue, but shakily stood and quietly followed after Michael. No night like tonight, they supposed as they stood.

_Insufficient energy._

_Host disconnected._

-  
-  
-

“Jenna?” Michael asked, knocking at her door. There was no answer. He opened the door anyway, looking at Jenna lying in bed and hurrying inside. He glanced at Rich's phone, which was dead. “Shit. Jenna, wake up.”

He grabbed her shoulder and shook it, but froze at how easily her body moved. He hesitated and shook her more.

“No. No, no, no, _no_. Fuck!” he hissed, failing to find a pulse. Jenna was completely slack. He leaned down to feel her breath, his heart wrenching at the lack thereof.

-  
-  
-

_Initiating data retrieval procedure._

_Data corrupted._

_Data retrieval procedure complete._

_Loading . . ._

They knocked on the door softly, having everything ready. A faint “come in” from inside had them plaster a faux friendly e xpression on their face, and they carefully made their way into the room, holding a small cutting board they found in the kitchen. On it, they balanced a half-empty bottle of UV Blue and four shot glasses which were already filled. Jenna raised her eyebrows at the sight and they closed the door behind them, a candle from Michael being the only source of light.

“What's going on?” she asked as they carefully moved over to her. She was sitting right in the middle of the bed, and scooted over so her friend could sit on the other side with the board in between them. “Where'd you get that?”

“Just a present. A peace offering, more like.” They picked up a shot glass and gestured for her to grab one. “I brought this and some mini bottles with us, but I guess there was just no justifiable use for it until now, when everything's gone to shit.” Jenna was more than hesitant, but they were holding up their shot expectantly, so she felt the need to grab a glass. She lightly tapped it against theirs with a pleasant sound.

“Thanks. I guess I accept.” They grinned and knocked back their shot. Jenna followed suit, face scrunching up at the feeling. The other teen laughed softly and placed their empty glass on the board, quickly grabbing their second one. “God. It's been, like, weeks. Forgot how it tastes.”

“Yeah, but I'm glad I saved it. Everyone here needs a drink, to be honest.” Jenna hummed in agreement and took another shot, coughing slightly afterwards. Otherwise, the taste didn't seem to affect her and she shook her head quickly, then poured more into the other glasses.

“Are they all asleep right now?” she asked, glancing at the door. They nodded and fiddled with their full shot glass, the liquid shimmering in the light. Jenna was sick of candles.

“I figured they wouldn't be in the mood. But, like, I've been wanting a drink since we got here and I thought I should offer you some. Otherwise, I would've just asked you to keep me company, y'know?”

“I get it, yeah. How could I refuse?”

And so they drank. Jenna poured herself more, while the other one took their second shot and rubbed their throat, joking about the fire of it. Jenna just laughed and took a few more shots, with the other one denying more and still rubbing their throat to feign pain.

“You alright?” Jenna laughed softly, deciding to stop drinking for now. There was a heavy taste in her mouth, and she was quick to associate it with straight vodka.

“Yeah, yeah. Guess I don't go as hard as you anymore,” they hummed, smiling at her. “Did it taste good?”

“Not as good as I remember,” she admitted, looking at the bottle. She could already feel herself growing weightless. “But it's fine.”

They nodded at her and moved the board and bottle aside, sitting criss-cross across from her. Jenna's hand went to her throat as well, and she swallowed thickly. Their smile grew a bit wider and they leaned forward a little.

“You okay?” they asked in a concerning tone, far different from their expression. The girl coughed slightly and her other hand went right below her navel. “What's wrong, Jenna? Shit, do you need water or something?”

“I think I'm cramping, but it's-it's really bad. Fuck.” She curled in on herself, voice growing weaker. Jenna wheezed a few times, still trying to speak. Why weren't they helping her? “I-I—Breathe, I can't breathe—”

“I really didn't want to kill you, you know,” they said, reaching over to grab a shot glass and look at the ring of blue liquid at the bottom. Jenna clawed at her throat, suffocating. “But it was way too easy. Can't believe everyone else would be so stupid. Your friends failed you tonight.”

“W-What did—Why would you—” They brought the shot glass under her nose. The strong scent of ammonia and alcohol together had her coughing.

“Take a whiff of that. Windex and UV Blue. Good, right? And I didn't even plan on it.” With a chuckle, they took the shot glass back and placed it on the board again. “You obviously can't hold a conversation right now. What should I do with you? Hang you like Rich? Slice your wrists to match Chloe's? Maybe I could push you over the railing and into the flood to drown.” Jenna was hacking quietly, pounding her chest. “Hm. You were always pretty nice to me, Jenna. You know what? I'll just tuck you in. They won't even bother checking if you're alright.”

They slid off the bed, still leaning on it, and she collapsed on her side, curling up and shuddering and light, gasping coughs coming from her. The other teen moved the board and bottle to the bedside, then shoved Jenna over to have her on her back. With surprising strength, they pulled her up by her arms to rest her head on the pillow. It was even harder to breath on her back, and she struggled against them to sit up, but they kept their hands on her shoulders. Jenna started seeing black spots in her vision. Her lungs were fiery, fighting for air, but there was none. Icy fear filled the rest of her chest as the other person looked down at her with a calm, almost satisfied expression. Her face was red with effort to breathe. The black spots danced, growing and growing and growing until Jenna's vision went black.

_Initiating data transfer procedure._

_Insufficient energy. Data transfer corrupted._

_Shutting down . . ._

“Goodnight,” they said amusedly, patting Jenna's cheek. They adjusted the sheets to cover her, closing her open jaw and moving her hands away from her neck. After a moment of consideration, they set Jenna on her side to face the door and made sure her expression looked relaxed. If not for her nonexistent breathing, she would definitely look like she just fell asleep. They took their time cleaning up and blew out the candle before leaving the room.

_Data retrieval complete._

-  
-  
-

_Energy level insufficient. Functions unavailable._

_SQUIP 2.0 requires maintenance at this time. Upgrade to SQUIP 3.0 for improved performance._

_Thank you for using SQUIP 2.0._

_Shutting down . . ._

-  
-  
-

Jeremy was woken up by a large hand on his upper arm. Someone was calling his name as well, an urgent hiss that had his eyes snapping open immediately. Jake was leaning over him, which would've been startling if not for his kind, concerned expression.

“Jake?” he mumbled dumbly, blinking tiredly.

“Jeremy, wake up, man,” Jake urged quietly, patting his arm. Jeremy looked around, confused, and Jake gently grabbed his arm to help pull him up. “We gotta go into the kitchen, okay? I don't know the details, but Michael got into Rich's phone and he and Brooke went upstairs.”

“Wha—Really? Why didn't he wake me up?” Jeremy whispered, stumbling to his feet as Jake grabbed his crutches and stood.

“Me and Brooke were already awake. He told me to get you awake and wait for him in the kitchen. C'mon.” Jake quickly moved to the kitchen, glancing at the stairs as he went. Jeremy followed, slapping his face softly to wake himself up as best he could. Once they were in the kitchen, Jake looked around and pointed at the knife holder on the counter. “Get one for yourself. Just in case.”

“H-How about you?” Jeremy asked nervously, the urgency of the situation finally weighing on him. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was a heavy air tonight. Jake shook his head.

“My hands are full right now. Keep that knife, Jeremy,” Jake advised, glancing at the kitchen doorway nervously. Jeremy held the handle of the knife tightly, staying close to Jake. A second passed, and the jock looked focused. “Something's wrong.”

“What? What are you—What do you mean?” the shorter boy said, glancing at him.

“They shouldn't be taking this much time.” A beat passed. “I'm gonna go up to see what's going on.”

“No, no, no, Jake, please don't leave me alone,” Jeremy pleaded immediately, scared and panicked. Jake tried to hush him, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

“Jeremy, I'm strong and I'll be able to help, okay? Something is up and I need to go up there. You're going to be fine, alright? Two seconds, give me two seconds.” Jeremy begged for him to stay downstairs, to stay with him, but Jake just tried to reassure him before quickly leaving the kitchen.

-  
-  
-

“Shit, shit, shit,” Michael hissed under his breath, tears welling in his eyes at his lost friend. He had to get back downstairs then, without waking Jake. He turned around and jumped at the sight of someone in the doorway, then let out a long breath at the realization it was Brooke. “She's dead.”

“W-What?” the blonde whimpered, taking a step forward. Michael blocked her from Jenna, shaking his head.

“I'm sorry Brooke. We need to get downstairs. Where's Jeremy?” Her eyes widened and Michael had this sinking feeling in his gut, like he’d just made a horrible mistake.

“He's—Jeremy's awake, he’s awake and he's hiding.” Brooke's gaze was shifty as she spoke, then she made teary eye contact. Michael felt his heart pounding.

“Alright, let's go,” he said, trying not to let his nervousness melt into his voice. He made way towards the door, and Brooke blocked his way. “ _Brooke_.”

“I'm sorry, Michael,” she said, voice shaky. This was bad. “I-I have to make sure you stay up here.”

“Why?” he asked. Even as the word left his mouth, he knew the answer. Another figure came up behind Brooke, his face displeased until he faked a friendly grin.

“Michael,” Jake greeted warmly, his crutches making steady sounds as he came forward and leaned against the doorframe.

“What the fuck, Brooke?” Michael scowled, looking down at the blonde as he backed away. She had the decency to look ashamed, at least.

“Hey, don't ignore me. And don't scream, either, or I'll get to Jeremy before you can.”

“By what, throwing yourself down the stairs?”

“Watch it.” Jake said, taking both his crutches in one hand. He looked at Brooke and tilted his head to beside him, the girl immediately padding over to stand in that spot. “Y'know, if you had just kept away from the stupid phone, you would be fine. We could've blamed it all on Jenna. She hated Rich, Chloe hated her, Christine called Chloe's death a waste. It was perfect.”

“What did you do to her?” Michael glared.

“We had a drink. Well, she had a drink, I just had blue Gatorade. It doesn't matter that much, does it?” He flashed a charming smile. “Anyway. We can't let you leave this room. If you do, Brooke and Jeremy will be in deep trouble, and we don't want that.”

“So what, you’re gonna kill me?” Michael took a step forward, and Jake’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “You know what I never liked about you, Jake? You’re a complete douche. You act like you’re the king of Middleborough to feed your ego because that’s the only thing that matters about you. Without your fake-ass confidence and your toxic masculinity, what are you? Some straight C jock who's too cool for the foster care system.” Jake's smile twitched and Michael approached even more.

“What are you even hoping to gain? You're killing the people who keep you relevant.” Michael stopped a foot in front of him, and Jake's smile had fallen.

“I'm killing the people who made me miserable. That's how it started out, anyway, and then you started digging and digging and it was _completely_ exhausting. You don't know how it is, Michael. My ex tries to fuck some guy in my parent’s bed, my best friend goes batshit and burns my house down during a party I personally invited him to, some Scifi pill makes me fuck up my legs even more than they are. You know where that all stems from? Rich.” His face turned hurt. “It hurts, Michael. You don't get it because you only got to really know him after he recovered, but I knew Rich as your bully. And I'm sorry for never doing anything to stop his bullying, but you have to believe me when I say he made me feel like worthless trash in my own friend group.”

Michael furrowed his brow and Jake hoped to get some sympathy. It didn't work. Michael shook his head and the jock let his pained expression fall.

“That's no excuse to kill him or anyone else. You know that.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Annoyed, Jake swiftly took the pocket knife from his back pocket and stabbed Michael in the stomach. Brooke gasped in horror as the teen's eyes widened, his hands dropping the phone and coming to the area around his wound. Blood was already pouring from it and staining into his clothes. Jake pulled the knife from him, not even having the sense to look guilty, and Michael fell to the floor. He didn't give his victim a chance to speak, stabbing the blade through Michael's neck and then retracting it in the same fashion. Red spattered his clothes and the floor, dripping off the blade smoothly. The light in Michael's eyes dimmed as he choked on his own blood and collapsed onto his side.

“He-He didn't do anything. He didn't do anything to you,” Brooke whispered, terrified. She looked torn between running over to Michael and staying as far away from Jake as possible. He feigned a sad expression and stared at Michael for a moment, then at the phone he dropped. As the pocketknife steadily dripped with blood, Jake crushed the phone with the end of one of his crutches. “Where did you even g-get that?”

“Chloe's room,” he said softly, looking at the blade like he was ashamed. Jake looked up at Brooke with a pained look on his face. “Brooke, he knew you were in on this indirectly. He was going to take you down, alright? And I know you won't like me saying I did it for you, but… I did.”

“Jake, how could you—I wouldn't ever ask you to do that. You should've let him turn me in, I should've—Fuck, _fuck_ ,” she choked, pressing her back against the wall and sliding down to the floor as she cried, hands over her mouth. Jake moved over to her slowly, kneeling in front of the girl.

“Brooke, it's okay. You're okay,” he said soothingly. The blonde looked up at him through blurry eyes. Jake let his expression fall as he stabbed her in the chest and forced the knife out, dropping it to the floor and placing his bloodied hand over her mouth. She barely screamed, trying and failing to breathe as high-pitched sobs tore from her throat. Brooke was trembling as she died, and Jake almost felt bad for her. He stared for another moment, sighed, and picked the knife up again.

He could probably just get Jeremy to bring him to town later and then ditch. He didn't really feel like killing him, really. Jeremy Heere wasn't a real threat.

Jake stabbed himself in the right shoulder without really thinking about it, grunting at the sharp feeling. He barely waited before pulling the knife out with a hiss. Pain shot from his shoulder all the way throughout his arm and chest, but he managed to stand. He leaned on his crutch with his other arm, gripping the knife in his left hand. Jeremy would believe anything Jake told him. Why would he want to look at the crime scene even if he did have his doubts?

He hobbled out of the room and down the stairs, feigning weakness.

-  
-  
-

Jeremy was nearly trembling out of fear in the corner of the kitchen, where he sat with his knife pointed away from him. Jake and everyone else was taking so long, and it was super concerning, but Jeremy knew he'd be of no help. He kept trying to get the SQUIP to turn on, to tell him what to do for just this last time, but nothing was making it respond. He was alone.

He didn't know how long he had been waiting there when he heard unsteady footsteps coming down the stairs. A voice called out to him, and Jeremy's heart sunk when no other people joined in. He scrambled to his feet.

“Jake?” he asked shakily, rushing to the kitchen entrance with his knife in hand. The jock was covered in blood, and sweat was gathered on his forehead. A knife dropped out of his hands, clattering to the floor, and Jake pressed that hand over his shoulder tightly. Jeremy dropped his own knife on the counter before hurrying to support Jake with an arm around his back. He glanced up the stairs as he helped the teen sit on a barstool, but no one else came down. “W-What happened? You're bleeding—Jake, fuck, h-hold on!”

Jeremy quickly rushed around the kitchen, grabbing a clean hand towel hanging from the oven and folding it into a thick square. He came back and carefully peeled back the neckline of Jake's shirt to press the towel against the wound, apologizing profusely as Jake hissed in pain.

“What happened to the others? Where's Michael?” he asked, applying steady pressure to the towel and looking between the wound and Jake's face.

“I-I'm sorry, Jeremy,” Jake said, and a pit formed in Jeremy's stomach. “It was Jenna. She—Fuck. It was so _fucked_.”

“No, no, no. Fuck. God,” Jeremy choked out, already starting to cry. Jenna was the murderer? How had he not noticed it? Jake looked at him with a sympathetic expression, looking extremely sorrow. “Are they all—?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I'm so sorry.” Jeremy shook his head, and Jake reached up with his left hand to place it over Jeremy's, keeping the hand towel in place as he kept talking with an increasingly choked up voice. “I-I tried to help, but it—I couldn't do anything. I couldn't do anything.”

“You tried. I'm sorry you had to see it all happen. I'm sorry you got hurt. I should've—I should've been the one to go up.” The adrenaline was starting to wear off and a sense of emptiness settled in Jeremy. Hot tears ran down his face, stinging his cheeks. He wanted to get out of here and hide, to push through the deep flood and endure whatever he had to in order to reach town. Of he had just woken up earlier, if he had just gone with Jake to help, maybe...

“No, Jeremy, Michael was your best friend. I-I'm glad you didn't have to watch him, okay? You shouldn't have to.” The taller teen looked like he was steadily moving past his shock and only then started to tear up. Jeremy sniffled, face red and body trembling as he cried quietly. “I should've known. We should've known. We should've been better.”

“We can't take it back.” Jeremy swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling comforted by the warmth of Jake's hand on his. “I know we wish we could, but we can't. I wish Jenna hadn't done it.”

“It was so obvious. The signs were always there,” Jake said weakly. He squeezed Jeremy's hand just slightly, making sure not to jostle the towel. A strangled sob left the shorter boy’s throat. “She was always left out and-and stepped on by Rich and Chloe. Christine confronted her about being the killer, she said. I never thought she disliked Christine, but she was—she was bragging about it. How easy it was. They had nothing in common at all. Jenna always hated theatre.”

Something clicked in Jeremy's brain.

“W-What?” he breathed shakily, looking at Jake's face. The jock looked somber, eyes on the floor.

“Jenna and Christine looked close, but they had nothing to bond over. I can't believe I didn't fucking notice.” Jake cursed under his breath, like he was berating himself, and looked up at Jeremy, who was wide-eyed. He paused at Jeremy's expression. He observed it for just a moment before letting his somber, teary-eyed face fall blank. Jeremy knew. Jake knew. Chilling fear filled Jeremy's core and he looked at the weapon he'd dropped on the counter. Jake followed his gaze to the blade, small and sharp and just out of arm's reach.

They both reached for the knife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END!!
> 
> I hope you had fun reading!! for those who don't follow me on Insta (@bowitscalledabow) these chapters were posted throughout a near 6 hour period and I'm glad some of you got to build the anticipation with me
> 
> PLEASE COMMENT who you thought the murderer was!! I haven't actually written a full murder mystery like this and I'm hyped to see where the clues led you!!
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed aaa thank you so much for reading!!!! I very much appreciate it!!

**Author's Note:**

> I CANT BELIEVE I FINISHED THIS!! I've been writing this thing since the very start of October and I'm so so proud of myself for being able to push through and complete such a long fic!!
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'm very VERY excited to see your thoughts in the comments thus far. please please let me know what you think as you go through each chapter I'll give you my love and my toes I worked super duper hard on this


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